The Other Side Of The Story
by SapphireOceans
Summary: Based on some my characters in Third.Snow.Leopard's epic Gone role play :D. Insights into characters pasts and lives.
1. No Fury Like A Woman Scorned

**Melinda**

_No Fury Like A Woman Scorned_

How can you hate someone and yet love them at the same time? I hate him. I hate, hate, HATE him! He used me for his own advantage and then dumped me for the next best thing when it came along. When _she _came along. I want to kill him, to hurt him more than I've ever wanted to hurt anyone. I want him to scream at him and hit him and have him writhing in agony at my feet, begging for mercy before I deliver the final blow. And yet...at the same time I want him to kiss me and hold, to stroke my hair, to make me feel special and beautiful. For him to be the way he is with _her_. Does he know that every time he calls her beautiful it's like a knife to my heart, that it makes me hate him more but at the same time makes me want him as well? I don't even know what it is about him that gets to me; I mean sure he's good looking and funny and brave, and maybe I can see a part of him that reminds me of myself. But why this endless yearning, this endless longing for something I can't have? Though I suppose, even as a child, not being allowed something only made me want it more.

Maybe I'm not in love with him, maybe I just want him because I can't have him. I've always liked to get what I want. My parents found that out the hard way. All I wanted was their attention, maybe a little love or affection, perhaps? Was that too much to ask? They didn't give a shit. When they were a) actually home and b) bothering to talk to me it was always to nag or compare me to my brother. My perfect, hardworking brother. Idiot. Who gives a shit about education? I was already ruling the school. Every boy wanted me, every girl envied me, everyone feared me. It was perfect. Even the teachers were scared of me; they soon learnt not to ask for late coursework. But I'm a smart girl; I would almost always get almost top marks in exams. And even if I didn't, who cares? Who needs brains when you have beauty? I know I'm pretty- no, I lie- I know I'm beautiful. You can get a lot of people, especially boys, to do things for you when you look like I do. I know that now some people call me names like slut and whore and skank, but do you want to know the funny thing? I've never kissed more than two boys in my life. Sure I flirt, sure I can wind them around my little finger, but I never dated them. They were just an unnecessary distraction. Until I met him, anyway. There was a connection between us. We were going to rule together, side by side. I never even properly kissed him when I had the chance, more fool me. I just pecked him on the cheek a couple of times. He made me feel timid, although I'd never show it. Of course, the minute he chucked me aside and got together with her they were all over each other. And they call _me_ the slut? I wonder if he left me because I never kissed him. Was it because he could sense that underneath all the cruelty and the hate I was shy and scared and longing for a little love? Was that why he ran?

And as for _her_...well. Where can I even begin. I hate her even more than I hate him, if that's even humanely possible. She stole him. The minute he set eyes on her I lost him. It's her fault I'm dead too, her fault that I 'poofed' as they call it. I would have fought it for him. I would have stayed for him. But he was gone. So when the world froze the moment turned 15 and he stepped from midair, held out his arms and told me he loved me, I didn't ask too many questions. I just threw myself into his arms and kissed him. And then there was only darkness and agony. The last thing I saw was her pale face, staring at me through the blackness. I have never felt such burning hate in that moment as I did in that moment. It was hate that bought me back. And hate which motivates me now.

But it's funny, because somehow I feel a...connection too her. She's like a younger version of me. She's the girl I could have been if maybe, just maybe, Zeb Cray had loved me instead.

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**Please review**

**xxx**


	2. Mummy's Little Secret

**MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE RP! IF YOU'RE RANDOMLY READING THE RP OR THE RP-FIC, AND DON'T WANT SPOILERS, DON'T READ!**

**Okay, I knew Cassie's chapter wasn't going to be all raibows and sunshine, but this came out a lot darker than I expected. Ah well, I'll just roll with it. Reviews, as always, are very much appreciated.**

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**Cassandra**

_Mummy's Little Secret_

The first thing I can remember is pain. My entire life, all I've ever known is hurt and loneliness and hunger. As a baby I used to lie in the old pizza box that served as a crib, my cries screeching through the night like a klaxon, a warning. Sooner or later they would stop. I just about stayed alive; the rare bursts of nourishment saw to that. I received nutrition every other day or so, on the few occasions when my mother did something other than sit on the old, battered sofa in a drunken stupor, cannabis smoke filling the room.

As I grew older I learnt not to cry. If I started to cry I got hit. By her, or by one of the many men she bought home on the occasions when she ran out of alcohol or cheap drugs and had to go to the pub to visit her supplier. On those rare moments of freedom, I used to run to the kitchen, standing on one of the few unbroken chairs and foraging through the cupboard and the fridge looking for something that wasn't mouldy. I was feeding myself at the age of barely two years old.

A little while after I turned three, mummy decided that I should start earning my keep. I didn't understand what was happening, why she left me with strange men, only that after she sent them away again, I hurt all over, in a strange way that felt wrong.

It was soon after this practise began that it spoke to me.

_Cassandra._

It called my name, invading my dreams, filling my head with a combination of black smog and sickly green light.

_Cassandra._

It whispered things, comforting things. It told me that it could take away the pain. It told me that it could make them stop. That it could make me powerful enough to take control of my own life. That all I had to do was say yes.

_Cassandra._

So I did.

That night when my mother came for me, to take me to the highest bidder, I was ready. She didn't stand a chance.

And then...I forgot.

Life continued as normal. Except the men stopped coming. My mother just stayed in the apartment now, staring into nothingness. But then the visions started. Flickering around me at the edges of my sight, everywhere I looked. Every possible outcome of every situation. And in my dreams I still remembered that green glow.

I got my own food. I'd sneak out of the flat, go through bins, wait in the shadowy corners of fast food restaurants for people to leave unfinished food on the table.

It scared me, being out of the apartment alone; it was home, even if it was beginning to smell...strange. But what were especially bad were the images which would suddenly invade my mind. Terrible images, of people dying, screaming, crying, and other things I definitely didn't want to see. There were kids on the estate who found me scary and strange. They'd throw rocks at me; hurt me if they could catch me, yelling names and calling me things like 'Witch Child'.

Even then I couldn't escape the pain.

Then, a month before _it_ happened, it came to me. And I remembered. The light spoke to me, filling my being. It told me what was going to happen; it told me what to do. That was how it worked. It was safer that way; it only let me remember when I needed it, or it needed me.

So I found the well in the woods and did as it instructed, helped it grow strong once more. I found the dark eyed girl and laid the foundations of the plan. I watched the boy with the blonde hair, ready the path for him to meet _her_. I followed the girl with the dark red hair, turning her loneliness to our own advantage. They didn't know. They never knew that we were using them, like pawns in a game of chess. I knew that I, myself was a chess piece too, but not a pawn; a queen. The darkness, the force which was channelled through me and into the world; that was the player. The one controlling us all. All we had to do was wait. Wait for a month until finally it was strong enough. And then, once again we would strike, just as we had when we'd stabbed my mother in the chest with a kitchen knife when I was three.


	3. Light Enough to See

**Written by .Leopard about her character Zeb xxxx**

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**Zeb**

_Light Enough to See_

I used to be alright.  
I used to be a decent guy; I guess. Yeah, that all changed one day. I don't know why it changed, I don't know how. There was a big gap. One day I was a guy, a mummy's boy, dedicated to helping his mother, and just spent his time hanging round with his friends. I had my freaky gift of mind reading, but apart from that I was an average, good looking guy. The next day, I was a murderer. And I liked it.

I don't understand any of it. It happened so fast. My memories for that day, the 21st of July, her birthday in fact, are blurred. As if they've been messed with. I just remember walking down the stairs, down to the cellar. I think I might of heard something. And then my thoughts change, as if a light switch was turned off, and everything went dark.  
My thoughts turned evil. I remember every single one of her screams, all of her cries, all her pleas. I then remember my brother, finding me, shocked, his own blue eyes that matched mine and my mother's so well begging me, even with a sheen of tears. I killed him too. My second murder. And wow, it felt like I'd discovered what I was meant for in this world!

And then everything shifted, it all changed. My powers grew. My mother and brother were dead. And I became closer to my father.  
My ruthless, mean father, who had been abusing my mother for years had been so close to leaving my mother and taking my brother with him. Yet, after I killed the two, he became proud of me. He taught me everything he knew. And soon, I didn't even recognize my reflection. Torture had become my fuel. Hearing others' screams made me laugh. The highlight of my week was when father gave me permission to torture a poor soul that had been bad to his business. I became excellent with using many weapons, all that my father left in the shed. Guns, knives, swords... so many weapons. Amazing weapons. I loved those weapons. I still do, it somehow calms me to have a pistol strapped in my belt. To know that it's there if I need it.

I sunk further into my own twisted mind.

And then one day, I heard the little girl. She didn't have any impression on me at first; I'd heard she was a freak around the neighbourhood. I wasn't bothered with her. I knew she would be easy to get to. I was sure, she'd be easy prey. I could maybe kill her, would anyone care if the girl went missing?  
But I read her mind, I mean, really read it.

Hearing the secrets in there, I bolted. Yeah, a tough guy like me ran away from trouble, from danger.

And I left her alone.

Life went on. I ignored the truths I had learnt from the little girl, and continued to feed on others pain. I built up a shield though, so that I could no longer hear their minds though. The voices, constant babble and talk were driving me further into insanity.

I mucked up even more at school, without anyone else's inward voices helping me through the questions. I mucked up my friends; I killed a few that stood in my way. The girls that used to seem to follow me in swarms began to grow afraid of my rough behaviour and the rumours of what I'd done.

I began to be ignored.

One day, my curiosity pierced me. I went to the well. I didn't know why the well was important, it just was. There was something down there, and I needed to see it. Somehow, the thing down the well seemed like my fate. It was my destiny.

I didn't go down. Something held me back from unlocking more secrets; I turned around and walked off.

And then it happened. I wasn't surprised when one second kids were in panic. I wasn't surprised when the adults vanished. I was never surprised. Maybe it was impossible to surprise me by then, or maybe I already knew...

So I watched Aurora Spark. She seemed to interest me. She reminded me of my sister I guess. She began to take the town over, not in a possessive way, it was if she cared. I watched her in interest, she seemed good, but something else was interested in her, something evil. Something told me it wouldn't end well for the short, bubbly blonde girl. And in the future I was proven correct.

It wasn't long after the first town meeting that I met Melinda.

Melinda... was a mistake. She also felt like destiny. And I suppose, I'm a guy, it was likely that I'd fall for her. I stayed with her. She would be the Queen of the FAYZ, she'd overthrow Aurora, I knew that much. And I'd be the King if I stayed with her.

I first met her with the little girl. The things I'd seen flashed back to me, but I simply ignored them. I helped her. Went against the goody-goodies. Tortured the girl, Andi, who seemed to protect the little girl.

Melinda and I seemed as if we'd stay together throughout the FAYZ. We were two of the most powerful, two of the most determined, two of the strongest. We would have ruled. Everything could have bent to our will. It would have all been reachable.

Then I met her.

Why was she so special? I had no answers. I treated her like the others. But all along, I knew Melinda and I couldn't be together as long as she existed.

And that was when it revealed itself. Darkness. Darkness called to me so much, Darkness wanted me, but not as much as it needed her. But it couldn't have her. She was mine. I resisted Darkness, and my stupid cousin, who tried to kill me in the well. I spit up with Melinda, I left her with her evil, cruel plans and dreams.

I ignored everyone's thoughts. Stayed as far as possible from the little girl. And I fell in love.

If someone asked me, how a guy like me, a sick, horrible, evil guy like me, ever possibly fell in love with Mia O'Sullivan, I wouldn't be able to answer.

And if someone asked me how Mia O'Sullivan fell in love with me, I would never be able to answer either.

But I need her now. I gave up everything, just to be with her. All my plots, plans, ideas. I gave away the chance to be King. I gave away the chance to be one of the most powerful in the FAYZ. I gave up all the chances to kill. To hear those screams that were my air, that gave me something to live for.

I regret a lot of things. Maybe I regret killing my mother, maybe I regret giving into insanity, maybe I regret ever making rash promises to Melinda I knew I'd never keep, maybe I regret letting myself fall into the depths of insanity. Maybe I regret it all.

But one thing I'll never regret, is falling in love with Mia. Because now she's my oxygen. I don't need to be crazy anymore, I don't need to torture, I don't need to kill; I never did. I just need Mia.

One day, I switched the light off and let everything go dark. But Mia's my torch; she keeps it light enough for me to see.


	4. 3:30am

**Poem from Cat's POV, Mia and Zeb's daughter, about Zeb. Set around ****15 years in the future from The '5 years later' RP. If Mia died having Cat and Steve, the twins, and Zeb had to look after them. That's not what's going to happen, but it was an idea and one point and I wrote this poem based on that. I have posted it as an independent fic, but thought I'd stick on here as well.**

**Hope you like it! Please review! :D**

**xxx**

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_**Catherine**_

_3.30 am_

They say I look like her.

The hair, the shape of the eyes.

Not the colour of course; that's yours.

Two drops of ocean in a pale face.

I wouldn't know.

If I look like her I mean.

A million times I have searched

For her smile, in old

Boxes and trunks and

Under the beds, looking

For windows to the past.

You have them all, I know;

Hidden from sight, as though

One glance, one

Single second of

Recollection is

Dangerous.

Maybe for you it is.

Maybe that's why you can't

stand to see me smile, because

My smile is

Her smile and

Our smile

Can cut open your old wounds

And bring back the memories

Of a cold,

Whitewashed

Hospital room where the

Air smells of disinfectant

And loss,

And a half of me lies still

In a cold white bed.

Time of death- 3.30am


	5. Never Know

**Sooooo, I was dithering around on the GONE RP forum last night and I happened to look at the slash pairings. One in particular caught my eye, and I thought I'd write a oneshot for it. I'm going to try and make you guess who's POV it's from; though I must admit, it's pretty obvious, especially to those who have read the first rp topic...anyway, this is not an official pairing, but I thought it would be interesting to write an insight into what it would be like if it was. This is the first time I've written anything homosexual, so sorry if it's a bit crap!**

**Review and tell me who you think it is!**

**xxx**

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_**Never Know**_

I really want to kiss you. But you can never know.

I think I feel in love with you the first time I saw you. You were controlling the elements, shaping the seas and winds to your will. I can remember how your eyes burnt like emerald fire, how your blood red hair whipped around your exhilarated face as you rejoiced in the power. You were so beautiful I could hardly breathe.

We talked to you after, and I can remember how your eyes flickered suspiciously from one face to the next; I could see how they lit up when your gaze met his. I had known you five minutes and I'd already lost you to him. I somehow managed to squash down the resentment in my chest. I was being silly. I liked _boys _after all. At least, I thought I did.

I could tell that you were talking to him in your mind all that time at the school. You liked him, I could see that, the way your eyes sparkled whenever he was near you, and I could feel jealousy crushing my heart. And then he went missing and you were so desperate to find him, willing to throw yourself into danger for _him_. I couldn't let you do that, Mia; I couldn't bear you risking yourself for him. So I stopped you, the only way I knew how. And you hated me for it.

We managed to follow you into the woods, even though I was weak. I have to admit that it did hurt me that you'd drained me; it was almost like betrayal. And then, surprise, surprise, we found you with _him_ again. I have never felt such envy in my life; I had to hurt you, wanted to kill you because how dare you love _him_? I'm so sorry I hurt you darling; I came to my senses at the last moment, jerked my hand away so the bullet only grazed you. But he came along again, with all his self-righteous anger, and carried you away from me.

And that was when I fell.

I told you once, didn't I sweetheart, that Darkness takes away the pain? It took me over. It told me we needed you with us, and I agreed because I _did _need you, I needed you more than you could ever know. But you have to understand, that after a while, I had to stop thinking like that. I didn't know who I was becoming because I wasn't...the old me wasn't...I just couldn't accept...I'm _straight_ I tell you!

And the fact is, once I'd come to the conclusion that this wasn't natural, wasn't my fault, that you had cast some kind of spell on me, it made me want to kill you more than ever. And the Darkness fuelled that. It was even worse when I saw you with him. Because then I was in denial _and_ fiercely jealous. But there's more of me here than Darkness now. I'm fighting it. For you. And slowly, very slowly, I'm winning. And if I do win, I'll tell you everything, I promise, I _have _to tell you. It hurts too much not to. But deep inside, I know I can't. You'll reject me and that will hurt even more.

Have you got any idea how I long for you? Sometimes I let myself dream of telling you, and that you'll run to me, that you'll feel the same way. I'll touch your smooth skin; twist my hands in your silky, flaming hair. I imagine your lips and they're so soft, softer than any guys, and I'm kissing you, in my dreams, pulling you so close, and I'll never let you go...but then the dream ends, like it always does, and you are gone, and I'm alone again, once more, with my love, my jealousy, my regret.

You see, darling, I only know two thing's for sure.

I really want to kiss you. But you can never know.

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**Please review**

**xxx**


	6. Trigger

**Okay, I decided, for my first Sophia one-shot, to explore a scenario that first originated in the second '5 Years Later' topic. I hope it's okay! Zeb and Blaze are not my characters, sorry if I mess them up Megan and Anni! This is NOT what actually happened in the RP, thanks to Blaze's intervention, but I was wondering what would have happened if he hadn't got there in time... and so wrote this. Hope you like it!**

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_**Sophia**_

_Trigger_

It'll all be over soon.

I'm not scared. I mean, I know it'll hurt. But nothing, and I mean _nothing_ can hurt as much as I do already.

I love him. I love him so much that I can feel a burning in my chest, every hour of everyday. It's like a hot coal is lodged beneath my rib cage, like flames are licking my throat every time I see him with _her._

It's so unfair! I've known him all my life, and loved him for most of it. And the minute she waltzed in, tossing her red hair, chatting away with him in her mind...that's when I knew I'd lost him. Huh. Well. She's got what's coming to her now.

I can remember the look on her face when I stepped into the room, gun clutched tightly in my hand.

"Sophia? Sophia, what are you-"

Those big dark eyes widened. "Sophia, put it down! What are you doing?"

I laughed, and it must have sounded pretty crazy, because, if it was possible, those green eyes grew even wider.

"Sophia, please! Why are you doing this?"

"Why do you think? _You took everything, everything I EVER wanted, away from me!_" my finger tightened on the trigger. "And you have no idea _how_ much I hate you for that."

"Sophia, pl-"

"_SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!_"

The bullet knocked her flying. She smacked into the wall and slid down it, gasping, blood beginning to pour from her chest. From the way she was gasping, I guess I'd shot her in the lung. I walked over to her, smiling madly as she covered away from me.

"Sophia..."

I narrowed my eyes and aimed the gun at her again.

She closed her eyes, slumping. I think it was her last words that made me pull the trigger again.

"Zeb, I love you..."

The second bullet hit her in the head.

I turned around, sitting down on the bed. Waiting for him to come back. He'd return soon. He never strayed from her for long.

Sure enough, I heard his key in the door and he pushed it open.

"Hey beautiful-" he broke off, seeing me.

"Sophia, what..."

I saw his eyes widen when he saw her lying crumpled on the floor; he stood there frozen.

I stood up slowly, the gun clenched tightly in my hand, tears beginning to drip down my face. I slowly raised the gun.

"I love you..." I said, my chest jerking with sobs.

His eyes drifted up to me for a second, but they were empty, and almost immediately flicked back down to her.

"Look at me."

He didn't even seem to hear.

"I said, look at me!"

He ignored me, just like he always does.

"_WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME?_"

He never noticed me, never paid me any attention. I pulled the trigger before I can even think about it.

I watched emptily as he slumped to the floor. My Zeb. He will always be _my_ Zeb.

I laughed softly to myself, tuning and running away, locking myself away in my room. You must have found them at some point; I'm so sorry if it hurts you that she's gone. But she deserved it.

You're yelling at me to come out now, begging me not to do this. But don't you see? I won't feel it. I'm already hurting too much. I told you that, didn't I Blaze? I tried to warn you. But it's not your fault. It's his fault. And her fault. They drove me to this. Both of them, together. They drove me over the edge; they drove me into this mad, desperate longing, this burning insanity. The metal is so cool against my skin, the barrel of the gun fits so well under my chin.

Don't you remember our conversation?

_"I don't care! I'll kill her, I will! And then I'll kill him too! He hurt me as well! And then I'll kill myself, so I don't have to hurt anymore!"_

_"No you won't. Because there are other people here that care about you, Sophia, and we're not going to stand by and watch you murder three good people."_

_"No one cares about me! No one's ever cared about me!" _

_"I do. Don't you fucking dare do anything stupid."_

Oh Blaze. Is this stupid enough for you?

I smile and pull the trigger.

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_**Please review.**_

_**xxx**_


	7. Fear

_**Morveren**_

_Fear_

Everybody's scared of something.

Some people shriek and squeal whenever they see a spider.

Some people are terrified of injections, fainting whenever they see a needle.

Others are petrified of heights; they can't even climb a ladder without freezing up.

Me? I used the think I wasn't scared of anything. I used to think these people were silly. That it was pathetic to be so afraid of things. Until one night when I was twelve. That was the night that changed everything.

It was a cool night, late October. The three of us had watched the usual Saturday night T.V; You've Been Framed, T.V. Burp, the X-Factor, curled up on the sofa with hot chocolate and plenty of junk food. I suppose we'd been happy to an extent, but it didn't feel quite the same without Dad; although the lack of rude remarks and atmosphere of apprehension was a relief. We didn't have to worry about him getting angry and yelling at us all, didn't have to worry about him and mum having long shouting matches well into the night, whilst Jennie and I curled up together in my bed, hiding our heads under the duvet cover, desperate to block out the noise. Thanks to the restraining order, we didn't think we would ever have to worry about that again.

We went to bed around eleven, laughing about some of the crazier acts, and at the female judges extravagant outfits. I hugged Jennie goodnight and tucked her up in bed, making her laugh when I got her toys to 'speak' to her; the teddy in a gruff, growly voice and the rabbit in a soft, squeaky voice. Mum came up with a hot water bottle for Jennie's feet; she'd been getting so cold in the nights that she needed the heat. Then she sat on the end of her bed, to listen to me sing.

Jennie got me to do it almost every night; she had a playlist of her favourite songs, silly songs, childish songs, Puff the Magic Dragon, A Mouse In A Windmill and old songs, traditional songs, like Barges, The Parting Glass, O Peggy Gordon.

That night I sang The Parting Glass, my soft soprano seeming loud in the quiet night, the Scottish folk song rolling off of my tongue easily. I suppose I'd always been quite a good singer; I'd been asked to audition for choir, I'd had a solo in the school play, but tonight I sang like I'd never sung before.

_Of all the comrades I've ever had,_

_They are sorry for my going away..._

My voice was clear, high...I felt like I would never stop singing, the lilting melody seemed to pierce my heart to the core.

_But since it falls unto my lot,_

_That I must rise and you should not,_

_I'll gently rise and softly call_

"_Goodnight and joy be with you all..."_

I shivered slightly when I'd finished. I felt strange, apprehensive; the lyrics seemed to touch a strange sense inside me. _That I must rise and you should not..._Looking back now, I can see that it was almost a premonition. I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. But I squashed it down and ignored it, going into my own room and curling up in bed. That was my last, carefree moment. My last moment without sorrow.

Because I can remember everything that happened next in searingly painful detail.

I can remember my sisters screams as she tried to get out of her room; tried to get through the jammed door.

I can remember the desperation in my mother's eyes as she screamed at me to run.

I can remember the way the smoke stung my eyes as I coughed and chocked, trying to find my way.

"Run Morv!"

So I did.

I left them there, my mother frantically jiggling the handle, trying to get my sister out.

That was the last time I saw them. Alive, that is.

I stumbled down the stairs, searching blindly for the front door in the thick black smoke, twisting the handle, fumbling with the bolt until it slid across, practically falling into the front garden, retching, trying to find clean air.

I lay there, the stars above me spinning around and around, slowly growing dimmer as the sky filled with chocking smoke and petrol fumes.

The Fire Brigade arrived too late. Far too late.

I had no other family; three of my grandparents were dead and my mother's mother was in a home, unable to even remember her own name, let alone mine, so I had nowhere to go. I was taken into care. I drifted through the days, vacant uncaring. What did I have left to care about? My mother and sister were gone, killed in the blaze started by my father. The blaze that killed him too.

I remember how I stood in a box in court and testified, how I heard how he couldn't take the fact that my mother had won custody, how he set the fire using rags soaked in petrol, throwing them through the first floor windows in glass bottles. How the front bedroom went up first; the room he used to sleep in with my mum. How mum was downstairs when she heard my little sister screaming. How they both died in each other's arms, trapped on the second story.

How he'd said that he couldn't have us then no one could.

The funeral was a few weeks later, and the entire school attended, a sea of staring faces peering curiously at me. I didn't make a speech; what could I have said? I was numb, too numb to think of anything except that roar of flames, the hot spitting crackle...I kept quiet, staring at my hands whilst people I didn't even know said prayers for my family, whilst a roaring cacophony of voices sang hymns around me. Bitterness filled me. None of them knew Jennie; none of them knew Mum. They were just strangers.

I went back a year later, on the anniversary of the fire. A burnt out black ruin greeted me. I tried to see the home I'd loved; the home I'd grown up in. The stairs I'd rushed down every morning, the corner of the front room that we'd set the Christmas tree up in every year.

All I could see was an empty shell.

I didn't go back again.

I wish I'd never gone back at all.

Because that ruin haunted me, haunted my dreams, haunted my every waking moment. The burnt out black structure made it too easy for me to picture their bodies, remember Jennie's screams, the screams that woke me. I wish they hadn't. I wish I'd died too.

Every night, the moment I close my eyes, I can see the flickering flames, smell the acrid smoke, I can hear the roar of the fire that consumed everything I loved.

The fire that stalks me, rearing its head at every corner.

The fire that won't ever let me forget.

I used to think I wasn't scared of anything.


	8. Faerie Tales

**Well here's a oneshot I never thought I'd get round to writing. Now, I wasn't originally going to put this up, as it was going to be full of spoilers for the RP. However, I decided to change it so that it was set around the time of the original FAYZ and so that it was spoiler free :). Anni, this is for you you Orpheus fan-girl! Though he's really not that great, and this is set before he got as cynical as he is in later RP's. Sorry...**

**Hope you like anyway :)**

**xxx**

**Edit: Here's the link to the fanart I made for this :) Just get rif of the spaces :) poly vore .com/faerie_tales/set?id=36839362**

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_**Orpheus**_

_Faerie Tales_

_Once upon a time there was a handsome prince and a wicked old witch..._

That would be how this would start if this was a faerie tale. But I am no handsome prince and Melinda…well Melinda isn't old, at least.

And this definitely isn't a faerie tale.

Over the years, many people have judged my sister, claimed to have known what lay inside her heart. Many of them have claimed that she didn't have a heart. She's been called many things and a witch is one of them. Evil is another. Twisted is a third. But, they didn't know her. Not really. Not like I did. How could anyone have ever known Melinda better than I did?

She was my twin, my other half; the night to my day, the darkness to my light. Two sides of the same coin. Me, with my golden skin, shaggy brown hair streaked with blonde, chocolate eyes and easy smile; Melinda with her pale skin, silky black hair, mysterious purple eyes and scowls.

She had an image to uphold.

That's what she told me, time after time. It was all about her image. She strutted around the school like a queen, ignoring all the glances, the whispers, always getting her way. I skulked in the background, staying out of the limelight; that was Melinda's place. Centre stage. They all thought she was bad, thought that she was a utter bitch. And they were right to think that, at least when she was at school. It was what she wanted them to think. At home she was a completely different person; I can still remember those days when I used to curl up on the sofa with her with a bowl of popcorn between us, watching some old horror movie. We'd always done that, since we were young; snuggling up together under a blanket, Melinda in her old pink dressing gown, her hair untamed and her face free of make-up. The movies she liked used to scare me, and I was terrified that I would have nightmares, but Melinda used to curl up in bed with me, and tell me she'd scare them away. Mum and Dad never found out because Mum and Dad were never there.

Melinda was my protector, my only friend; she'd pretend not to know me at School, but everyone knew we were siblings, and that was enough to keep most of the bullies away. No one wanted to provoke Melinda's wrath.

I can remember the time when we looked up our name meanings for the hell of it. Melinda means 'Black Snake'. I can remember that she was pleased when she heard that by the way her eyes glittered. Orpheus means 'Best Voice', which is ironic because I can't carry a tune to save my life. I have the same name as this Greek bloke who went into the underworld to try and bring his wife back to life- and failed miserably. He ended up turning gay and getting ripped up by these women who worshipped Bacchus, God of Wine. Nice. Hopefully that'll never happen to me. We looked up our surname, Maeven as well. It suited Melinda far more than it suited me. 'Intoxicating Raven'. Intoxicating. It's a...dangerous word. A word very suited to my sister. That's the thing about Mel. There's something about her...a kind of...fire. A dark fire. Sometimes I think I can almost see it burning in her eyes. Once she's got her hooks into you then you're caught for life, consumed by the flames. And the thing is, she doesn't even realise she's doing it. She'll trap you in her web, make you do anything for her, and she won't even know. But I guess I just had to live with that. She was my sister after all; I loved her.

It was around six or seven months before our fifteenth birthday when everything changed.

I found her standing outside in the garden, her eyes wide, staring at nothing.

"Mel?"

"Sh." Her voice was sharp. "Listen"

"Listen? To what?"

"Listen…"

I listened, but all I could hear was the wind rustling the leave of the trees. "Mel…"

She jerked sharply. "What?" She looked confused.

"Come inside, Mel." I took her hand gently and lead her towards the backdoor. She followed, unresisting, but her eyes were still searching for someone….or something.

That was just the start of the nightmare. I'd hear her screaming almost every night; find her standing outside on others. When I looked into her eyes I could see something almost alien inside, staring back at me, cold, unfeeling. Not my sister. The fire in her eyes was cold; and that just made her scarier.

I didn't find out about what she'd done to our parents for a while. I saw them so little that I didn't notice that they weren't around. In fact, it actually wasn't until the FAYZ when I found that she'd killed them, burying their bodies in the back garden, in the rose bed. Those roses bloomed beautifully that year.

The nightmares got worse, as did the sleepwalking. I remember one night when I found her at her bedroom window; leaning out so far I feared she'd fall.

"Where are you?" she was whispering in a voice that sent chills down my spine. "Where are you?"

She was worse at school. Whereas before she'd been sullen and bitchy, she became violent and vicious. She sent several people to the school nurse and more than one to hospital. They were all too scared to testify, but I knew it was her. She even got me to help on a couple of occasions, though it made me feel sick to my core, especially what she did to that brown haired girl, Andi or whatever her name was.

The events of that last night, that last night of whatever innocence we had left are still seared into my mind, as if by her fire. It was late; I was just going to get ready for bed when she grabbed my wrist. I leapt, startled; I didn't know she was there.

"Orpheus." she said softly, "Do you trust me?"

"'Course I do Mel. What is it?"

"I can't tell you, not yet. She told me not to tell you."

"Who told you not to tell me what?"

"Never mind. You'll find out soon."

She began to lead me down the stairs. "Something's happening, Orpheus. Something big. Something massive. You have to help me."

"Of course I'll help you. What is it?" we stopped in the kitchen and she turned to face me. The fire in her eyes was burning brighter than ever.

"Swear you'll help me."

I nodded. "I promise." I reached out a hand, to do our special handshake, the handshake we'd done since we were little. She shook her head.

"No. Promising isn't good enough. Swear it."

I frowned. "Swe-"

"Make me a vow." She opened a draw and pulled out a knife.

"Mel-"

Before I could stop her she'd slashed across her hand. Blood trickled from the wound, staining the pristine kitchen floor.

"A blood vow." She passed me the knife.

I hesitated, looking down at the knife before glancing up at her. I was immediately caught by her piercing gaze, the fire in her eyes burning more fiercely than I'd ever seen it burn before.

"I, Orpheus Maeven will help you with whatever you ask me to. This I vow." I slashed my palm with the same knife, and my blood joined hers on the floor. She took my hand and squeezed it tightly, her face alight with glee. I smiled back as my blood mingled with hers, joining us forever, in an unbreakable bond.

Or so I thought.

On the eve of the FAYZ, we were alive with hope.

We didn't know there would be no happy ending for us.

This isn't a faerie tale, after all.

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**Please review :)**

**xxx**


	9. Anything

**Here's a reply to the glorious Anni's latest chapter in her OC oneshots! It was written for my birthday, and it was amazing, so go and read it! She's JustSlightlyObsessed. Thank you so much Anni, it was wonderful!**

**Here we go :D**

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_**Cat**_

_Anything_

_Why?_

She stares out the window into the dull grey sky, watching the raindrops mist the glass.

_Why did you go?_

It's been a long time now, a long time and they've all told her that it'll heal, that the pain will ease, that she'll feel better soon. But she doesn't. In fact, the pain seems to grow each day that goes by. Another day when the image of his face in her mind grows fainter, the memory of his laugh seeps away.

_No warning. Nothing. You just upped and left. Left us a note telling us it was for the best. For who's best, I wonder._

She slips a hand into her pocket, touching the worn and dogged paper that she's kept close to her for the last few years. She can almost recite it off by heart, pouring over it for clues as to why he left, where he went to.

_Sometimes I do hate you. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? 'Please hate me.' Well I do, okay? Are you happy now?_

Sometimes she wonders if he had someone else. A woman who meant more to him than his wife and daughter. The thought fills her with prickly bitterness. Other times she wonders whether he's even still alive. Almost everyone else has convinced themselves that he was dead. That the letter really was a goodbye. But she can't. No matter how hard she considers it, she couldn't believe that. She'd feel it if he was dead. She'd know.

_You told me it wasn't my fault. But how can it not be? You think you destroy everything you love; what about me? I killed my real mother, repulsed my real father and obviously screwed you up so much that you had to run away. I'm poisonous. That's what I am. I seep poison into everyone's lives. I know that now. I've taught myself not to feel anymore, and it always works, except when I think of you._

She gets up slowly, setting down the cold cup of coffee she pays the bill and slowly heads towards the door. The bell above her head jingles.

The street is cold and she wraps her coat around herself more tightly to block out the chill.

_Mum wouldn't tell me about the woods you know. About what happened when you were fifteen. She was scared. Just as scared as you were._

_Did you know she'd go mad after you left?_

The whispers have been growing stronger for a while now. They promise her things, promise her power and company; an immortal life free from pain or suffering. And she's tempted. Oh God, she's whisper things about a stolen child and the promise a mother made long ago.

_They speak to me you know. The shadows. I hear them. Almost all the time. Did you? Did they call to you like they do to me? Did you follow them? Did you want to stop the pain too?_

The rain has softened to a light drizzle by that point. She walks along the concrete path for a while, across the playing field before ducking into the trees, into the woods, her long, dark red curls snagging on protruding branches. Her heart is thumping unusually fast. She can barely believe she is doing this.

_Does it stop the pain Dad? Did you ever find out?_

She walks for a while until finally coming to a halt in a clearing. A woman with silvery blonde hair rippling down her back is standing at the centre. "We got your message. What did you wish to discuss?"

_Do you still think of us? Or are we just long forgotten memories? Figments of your imagination?_

She takes a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly. The whispers are strong, the shadows curling playfully around the woman's ankles like smoke.

"So shy, Catherine?" the woman laughs and dissolves into shadow, the tendrils drifting towards the girl and reforming behind her. The woman whispers in her ear. "Can you hear them?"

There is a long pause. "Yes. I hear them."

The woman laughs softly, sending a tingle down the girl's spine. "And aren't they just beautiful?"

There is an even longer pause. "Yes. They're beautiful."

The woman laughs again, turning the girl to face her, running a finger down her cheek gently, before tilting her head up to get a better look at her. "So like her. It must have broken all of their hearts…"

The girl says nothing, closing her eyes and shuddering slightly.

"All of their hearts…" the woman croons, reaching out and touching her hair curling a red tendril around her finger. "Completely broken. Just like she was." she giggles.

_Like she was? Did you forget her too? Is that all I was, a way to apologise to a long dead woman who you never had the chance to say goodbye to? Does this mean you've given up on both of us?_

The girl opens her eyes, glowering at the woman.

The woman gasps in delight, clapping her hands together. "Look at those eyes! Look at those angry, angry eyes! So much like him! The colour and the glorious anger. Are you angry, Catherine?"

_In your letter, you talk so much about how leaving us is hurting you. But did you ever even stop and consider that it would hurt us so much more than if you had stayed?_

When she doesn't answer, the woman finally releases her. "So why are you here?"

"I need you find someone for me." The girl says after a moment. "Find someone and give them this." She holds out an envelope.

The woman snatches it from her hand and reads the name on the front. After a moment, she begins to giggle.

_I must have written you a million letters, but this is the only one you'll get. I love you, Daddy though I hate you too; I just have to see you again, even if it is only to punch you._

"What would you do to find him, Catherine?" the woman says mockingly. "Just what would you do to find him again?"

The girl looks up and stares straight into the woman's glittering black eyes.

_I'll find you Dad. And that's a promise._

"Anything. I'll do anything."

The woman giggles reaches out a hand.

_I'll find you._

After a moment's hesitation, Cat takes it.


	10. The Worst Nightmare

**Why hallo there XD.. I know I haven't updated in ages, but I've had several half-finished idea's floating around, and I decided to actually finish some of them and put them up. I have got to admit, this was mainly because Megan has now put up many truly spectacular oneshots, and I feel like I should stop being so lazy and put some up of my own XD. This is one that's been floating around for at least 6 months XD. And it's the first Mia oneshot! Yay! Here goes!**

**It's set in the original RP; Zeb is Megan's, Blaze is Anni's and Lucyna is Puppy's. x**

* * *

**Mia**

_The Worst Nightmare_

Ever since I can remember I've had nightmares.

A good dream is a rare occurrence; a treat. Warm and fluffy and comforting like candyfloss. The rest of the time I wake screaming, drenched in sweat and shaking from the demons which lurk, waiting to pull me under as soon as I close my eyes. They didn't know what to do with me at the home. They tried everything, from cuddles to shouting, feeding me certain things before bedtime to not feeding me at all. They took me to the doctor, but he said I was too young for drugs, and told them I'd grow out of it. I didn't.

They gave up on me eventually, and stuck me in a room by myself, as far away from the other kids as possible. The nightmares continued even when I left the home. My new parents were kinder though; they'd sit up with me, make me hot drinks, hold me until I calmed down. I learnt to stop myself disturbing them after Benny was born. I'd wake with my hands bleeding from where I'd bit down on them to stop myself screaming. Eventually I simply wouldn't go to sleep. I'd drink coffee and stay up reading until the darkness was penetrated by the sunlight creeping over the windowsill. I'd fall asleep at my desk at school, but the sleep would be dreamless, empty. The nightmares couldn't reach me then.

After my parents died, the nightmares became unbearable. I wouldn't wake straight away now; I'd be trapped, screaming, stuck halfway between sleep and awareness. When I finally woke, my throat would be hoarse, tears streaming down my face, my sheets soaked in sweat and sometimes splattered with blood from where I'd bitten my tongue so hard that it had bled down my chin. My roommate didn't notice; she was a heavy sleeper anyway, and she had taken to wearing earplugs sleeping with me.

He makes them better though.

After the FAYZ began, and Zeb Cray was bought into my life, I thought they'd improved. He holds me in his arms every night, whispering that he loves me and that everything is going to be okay, and for a while I believed it was going to be. The problem is that when you have people you love, you can't bear the thought of losing them.

The dreams changed.

Now instead of the nameless monsters, a new terror awaits me. Night after night they come to me, screaming, crying, dying, their bodies bleeding and broken, calling out for me to help them, save them, hold them…

One night it will be Blaze, reaching out his arms to me, blood dripping from a gaping wound in his chest, staring at me helplessly with his sightless gaze. Or worse, rejecting me, telling me he doesn't need me, didn't want me, that he doesn't want me screwing up his life more than I have already.

Other nights it will be Lucyna, my best friend, turning her back on me, calling me a whore, hating me for leading on her brother, for taking his energy. She comes at me, knife in her hand, a manic smile on her face, or I'll see her on the ground again, writhing and screaming in pain, begging me to help her, whilst I stand there, frozen.

Sometimes I dream of her. That faceless figure, that omnipresent shadow on the edges of my life. The woman who left me on a cold, hard doorstep and never looked back. She tells me she left me because she hated me, because she saw what I would become, a monster ripping the life out of others, a heartless, selfish parasite feeding off of the rest if the world.

But the most awful dreams are about him.

I stand there, locked inside myself helplessly watching him die. There is a dark figure who tortures him, doing unspeakable things until the blood is pooling on the ground underneath him and all I can hear are the sounds of his screams. The tears are hot on my cheeks and I can feel myself sobbing, begging, screaming at the figure to stop, but they continue until he falls still and I can see that his beautiful blue eyes are empty, lifeless and staring straight at me. And then the figure turns, walking towards me, and I scream again, knowing they're going to start on me, they're going to hurt me…but they halt right in front of me and I suddenly recognise them. We stare at each other, eyes wide, her dark green eyes meeting mine, her face smeared with blood. I touch my own cheek and find it sticky and wet; redness glitters on my fingers, and I realise that I'm staring in a mirror. That's when I scream myself awake and he's there alive, alive and solid and real and he's holding me and everything's alright, that's what he's whispering, that everything's alright.

But I know it's not.

I dream of many things, of many people, many unspeakable things. But out of all my dreams there's one nightmare that's the worst.

My worst nightmare is myself.


	11. Bedtime Stories

**This is one I started ages ago and then came back and re-wrote from a different perspective. It involves quite a few charries, so I'm not sure whose name deserves to head it, so I've left it blank. Hope you guys like! Ooooooh, plot! XD. Blaze is Anni's, not mine x**

* * *

_**Bedtime Stories**_

The night is stormy and dark. The girl creeps slowly up the stairs, the wood creaking softly under her feet on the weaker slats. She gently pushes a door open and steps inside, closing it behind her with a small click, before turning to face the room. She steps towards the wooden cradle by the window, staring down at the child within. The child stares back with curious blue eyes, curling and uncurling her tiny hands like starfish, blinking up at this oddity. Lightning flashes outside the window and the baby trembles and opens her mouth to wail, but the girl reaches down and easily plucks her from the crib, holding her up against her shoulder. "Shhh…" the girl whispers, walking to the window and staring out at the storm. "Don't cry."

The baby gulps and whimpers, but doesn't wail, to the girls contentment.

"Do you want me to tell you a story, hmn?" the girl murmurs to the baby, swaying slightly. The baby gurgles in answer. "Here's a story then…" the girl says, sitting down on a wooden chair, and gazing out the window, her eyes growing slightly misty. "Once upon a time, there was a queen who longed to have a baby…"

The baby fidgets slightly, her hand curling around the girls hair. The girl gently pulls the child's hand away.

"The queen had tried everything, but no one could help her, not even the best physicians in the land. But one day, the queen visited a small town she has been too as a child, and that night a magical voice came to her, whispered to her and led her to a well." The girl smiles, jiggling the child gently, getting into her stride. "And from the well, a magical voice whispered to her that it would give her children, in return for a small price. The queen asked what the price was, and the voice told her that if it gave her the ability to have children, then in return it must bring her first daughter back to the town and give it to the well." The girl strokes the baby's head softly, her eyes gleaming. "The queen agreed, and left. And the voice kept its promise. Soon after the queen returned home, she fell pregnant and gave birth to a baby boy.

"However, the queen was treacherous. Remembering her promise to the voice, she sent her husband to the physician to ensure he wouldn't give her anymore children, in case she gave birth to a daughter. The voice, on discovering this was enraged with the queens betrayal." The baby whimpers, and the girl realises her grip has grown too tight and relaxes it. "As her husband could no longer have children, the voice enchanted the queen, and whilst her husband was away on a long trip, the queen had an affair with her sister's husband and became pregnant.

"Terrified, the queen begged her sister to take in the child, and her sister agreed. However, after the child was born, the queen's sister, on discovering her husband's infidelity, left, abandoning the child with her former husband." The girl shifts the baby to her other shoulder, checking to make sure the child hasn't fallen asleep. She hasn't; her blue eyes are still as alert as ever. The girl smirks slightly and continues. "However, that child was a boy. The voice still hadn't made the queen pay for her betrayal. Once more the queen was led into an affair with her sisters former husband. Once more the queen became pregnant. But this time her husband found out. Betrayed, he abandoned the queen and she was left alone. And this time she gave birth to a daughter. For two years she struggled to raise her son and her daughter alone. For two years she resisted the voice whispering in her mind. But she eventually gave in. She travelled to the town to deliver her daughter to the well, as she had been instructed."

The baby makes noises of discontentment, and the girl shushes her, jiggling her up and down. "She was too weak, however, to go through with it. She ended up abandoning the child on the doorstep of the local police station, before returning home, thinking she'd never see her again. The baby was taken to the local orphanage where she was raised without ever knowing her mother's identity. But the voice wouldn't give up its prize so easily. For the girl had a great power inside her, a power the voice needed in order to fulfil its plans. From a young age it spoke to the girl, whispering in her mind, contacting her in her dreams, laying down the foundations for what she was destined to become. And it nearly succeeded. By the time she was fourteen, the voice believed the girl ready. It initiated its plan, and waited for the girl and the others it had chosen to play their parts. However there was something the voice had not anticipated. How love can change a person."

The girls teeth clench slightly and her mouth takes on a mocking twist. "The girl fell in love and all the work the voice had down, the hard, unbreakable shell it had created melted away. The girl ended up helping to defeat the voice, perhaps for good. Only my master isn't defeated that easily. It found her again, and this time, when she wouldn't listen to reason, it bought about her death." The girl smiles triumphantly. "But the voice does not forget and it does not forgive. For it knew that the children she had carried were already infected with it, as the girl herself had been. It knew how susceptible they were, and if it could only find them when they were young, lead them in the right direction…lead you in the right direction…"

The baby begins to whimper, struggling against the girls grip, but the girl just holds her tighter. "You'll join your brother soon, Catherine." She murmurs, kissing the baby's forehead. The child begins to scream, flailing her tiny fists, and the girl quickly places her back down in the cot, hearing footsteps. She melts away into the shadows in the corner of the room and watches as a man bursts in.

"Cat?" he calls, panic in his voice, the panic of a new parent who thinks, at every cry, that something has gone wrong, that their child is hurt…

The baby wails louder, her face screwed up, her skin almost the same shade of red as her vibrant hair.

"Shhh…shhh…" the man makes calming noises, scooping up the child and holding her close, jiggling her gently. "Shhh…" The baby gradually calms, her shrieks descending into hiccups and the odd whimper.

The girl watches as he goes to put her back in the crib, and then quickly picks her up again at the shriek of protest the baby emits as soon as he lets go. The man leaves the room with the child, intending to keep her with him until the storm had passed, to stop any harm coming to her. The girl slowly steps out of the shadows, watching the doorway, before her eyes flick back to the now empty crib. "Soon, Catherine." She murmurs. "It will start soon. You'll come to us soon enough."


	12. Fighter

**This is old. It's been lurking, unfinished, on my iPod for about two months. But now 'tis finally finished. Huzzah. I incorporated as couple of ideas which I had in the 5 Years Later topic when I was researching pregnancy problems to kill off Mia, and I came across the syndrome which I have imposed upon the twins here briefly. This isn't currently canon; where it becomes so is up to you Megan :P**

**Steve, Zeb, Adrion and Rorri (who is insinuated) are Megans, and I've taken liberties with Zeb and Steve, sorry! D:**

**Cat and Mia are mine :D**

**Oh, and in reply to 'AnExtremelyConfusedHumanBeing', thank you so much, I'm really glad you like the stories! :D It's all based on a completely OC Gone RP; we're right at the top of the Gone Forums, you can't miss us :) x**

* * *

**_Catherine_**

_Fighter_

I had to fight before I was born.

My brother nearly killed me inside my mother; something to do with the placentas. He got the nutrients, I didn't. As a consequence, he was born a large, strong, healthy child, although to begin with he had very red skin from taking more than his fair share. I slumped into the world after him, a tiny white skinned baby, eyes and mouth closed with none of my brother's vigorous screams. My mother began to sob when she saw me, her hands pressed over my mouth, but my father lifted me up in his big strong hands and held me to his chest, and I began to stir very slightly, reassured by the sound of his heartbeat. He once told me that from the moment I opened my eyes he knew I'd be a fighter; tiny and frail as I was, he said there was something that burned inside my eyes, the same thing that burnt inside his; the desire to bend the world to our wills.

I was a small, physically weak child to begin with. My brother would always wait for me though, always let me have the last piece of cake, always give me whatever I wanted. Later on I wondered if this was because he remembered how he'd half killed me and was trying to make amends. I never asked him though; I didn't want to hurt him or make him feel guilty. It wasn't his fault. Maybe I'm being cynical. I probably am. Maybe he just did those things for me because he loved me. Don't get me wrong, I loved him too; I just didn't really know how to show it.

From the age of three I learnt to handle weaponry. As soon as I could walk I would follow my father into the training rooms and watch, wide eyed as he wielded swords, daggers, guns and spears with equal precision and skill. I longed to be able to do that, to slice the air apart in a deadly dance.

"Can I try?" I asked one day, watching as he ripped apart imaginary enemies with a sword. He tilted his head to the side, studying me.

"Here." He fetched me a small rapier from the wall. "See what you can do with that."

It was a match made in heaven. Pretty soon, I was slicing up my own imaginary foes, albeit, not as gracefully as he had; my limbs were still clumsy, my muscles were still weak. But they grew stronger the more I practised, and for my fourth birthday my father presented me with a tiny rapier designed especially for me. My mother gave my brother a box of coloured chalks and his own easel. From that moment it almost seems as though our futures were set.

More weaponry soon followed; by the age of five I could wield knives and a small bow and arrow. It was also the second time Father took me to meet our master. He'd taken me once when I was a baby, but I didn't remember it, although I still had vague dreams of whirling shadows and silken whispers. He led me down through the cells, into a dark corridor. I tried to not to be scared but I couldn't help gripping his hand a little more tightly, a shiver going through me. He paused, looking down at me.

"You're not frightened, are you?"

"Of course not!" I shook my head defiantly. "I'm not scared of the dark!"

He chuckled softly, beginning to walk again, leading me through the stone passage to an old wooden door with iron swirls marking it. Slowly the door crept open of its own accord. Father moved behind me, both hands on my shoulders. I hoped he couldn't feel me shaking.

"I've brought her to you, like you asked." his voice echoed around the rock walls.

And then I heard its voice for the first time in five years; truly its voice I mean, not the faint echoes of its words in my dreams.

_Come here, child. Come to me._

My feet moved of my own accord. I was no longer afraid. Father squeezed my shoulders once and released me, allowing me to move forwards into the blackness of that room. I can't remember what happened after that; I think I might have screamed. I hope I didn't. I do remember waking up in my father's arms as he carried me back through the house, remember my mother shouting at him.

"What have you done to her? _What have you done to her_?"

I can remember the way she looked into my black eyes, her own green gaze full of terror.

Idiot.

I guess that's when she started to lose her strength. She kept nagging at my father all week; _"She's too young!" "It could damage her!" "Do you want her to become like Cassandra? Do you?_" I just wanted her to shut up, but I couldn't be bothered to say the words. I was in my own enchanted dream world of dark smoke and delicate tendrils which twisted in my hair, comforting me, holding me safely. If I listened I could hear it whispering, gently crooning the words of a half forgotten song in my ear like a lullaby…

_Rest in me and I'll comfort you…  
I have lived and I died for you…  
Abide in me and I vow to you…  
I will never forsake you…_

It loved me. The thought filled me with wonder. It was the only constant, the only unfailing love. And I loved it in return. And as it was a part of my father and my brother, that meant I could love them too. My mother, however, was fading, growing weaker every day, slipping away from our lord. I could feel it and it could feel it. It loved her too, I realised, it was sad it was beginning to lose her; it was clinging to her more tightly, trying to save her. I didn't care about her, or at least I tried not to. Not after the day I saw her beg for mercy at my father feet as he kicked her repeatedly. It was from that moment that my mother began to disgust me, although I longed for her gentle hugs and caresses as much as I despised them. But why should I care when she was so weak? Father tried his best; he tried to make her see sense, to punish her when she was feeble, to help set her straight, but my mother stumbled again and again, and every day I felt more and more scorn for her, despite the constant wrenching sensation in my chest whenever I saw the cuts and bruises along her arms. And then she finally fell.

When I was ten, she left us completely, ripping our family apart and tearing my other half away from me. It was hard with him gone. I never cried. Never let myself sink that low. But it still hurt; an omnipresent ache, a missing heartbeat. That feeling when I'd automatically go to brush my mind against his to see what he was thinking and finding nothing but a void of silence. It was like the lurch when you missed a stair, a terrible empty lurch into nothingness. I wanted Fathers love more than anything; I needed it, craved it, had to know that I was still loved. He gave me nothing, not even scraps. He just sat there longing for that flame haired witch. And then Steve…my other half…he returned. Only to betray me and fully severe my heart. He tried to kill my father. All I had left. I couldn't let him. I stopped him and told him to never return, never to look me in the face again. It wasn't until after he left that I realised that I was killing myself slowly inside as surely as I was killing him. I ran to father for reassurance and once more received nothing but empty words and blank stares. Alone, I resigned myself to despair. Until him.

I hated him at first. I felt like he was a replacement trying to usurp the gap left in my life by my brother. I was torn between hatred and loneliness, a desperate longing for companionship. In the end I walked an unsteady tightrope between the two. I was as changeable as a whirlwind; sometimes we'd play together, train together, sometimes even fall asleep next to each other in the training room. Other times I'd torment him, mock him, torture him with my words until he responded in a fiery rage, our screaming matches filling the house. I didn't realise until it was too late what our turbulent relationship was developing into. I was naïve. I have to admit it. Hopelessly fucking naïve when I went to his room that night, when, curiously, I pressed my lips to his, just to see what it would feel like.

I didn't think it would feel like that.

Like a fire, like one of our arguments, all hate and blood and love wrapped into one, but this was physical, not verbal and I never wanted it to end.

He scorned me afterwards, when my teasing went too far, when I invited him to my room that night. God, at the time I wasn't even sure what I was doing. I wanted to prove to my father that I could be just as heartless as he wanted me to be, wanted to break Adrion and get rid of that knowing, arrogant twinkle in his eye, wanted to make him crawl at my feet and show me the veneration I deserved but which he'd never supplied, but also I wanted to capture that feeling again, that wild heady feeling where I felt like I was gripping a live wire.

Well, that blew up in my face.

Majorly.

He wouldn't do what I said. We argued over something stupid, like the door, and he refused to do what I wanted. _Everybody_ does what I want! I yearned to slap the smug look off of his face, leave him broken and begging for mercy. I began to plot. But the first time we had sex, it was nothing contrived, nothing planned, nothing within my control.

_Anger raging through my body, the thrum of my heart in my ears, the feel of his skin on mine and the taste of blood in my mouth…_

We lay there afterwards in the centre of my destroyed bedroom, arms wrapped around each other, panting for breath, my hair in his mouth and stuck to his chest, his hands on my back, warm and solid and_ real_. And for one blissful moment I was at peace. I felt calm, I felt safe, I felt like, for a moment, that someone…cared about me. Cared about as more than a pawn in a much larger game. A feeling I hadn't had since my brother left.

As soon as I'd felt it, it was gone, but a ghost of the feeling remained with me, no matter what insults we ended up screaming at each other, no matter how much my father disapproved, no matter how much I tried to fight it off. I was beginning to realise that there was something different about Adrion, something that was reeling me in like a fish on a line. Well I'll tell you now, this fish wasn't going to be pulled in that easily.

I've fought men with guns, women with swords, children with knives. I've fought girls who can control the earth, boys who can read minds, women who can conjure fire from their palms. But now I'm fighting a new enemy, one deep within myself which is trying to wrestle it's way to the surface.

Right now, my greatest enemy is love.

And like hell am I going to let it win.


	13. Silence

**Blegh is one for Anni :P Some chunks of this near the end are completely copied from the forum, so some of the Blaze POV in the end scene is Anni's, as is Blaze himself :P**

**So there :P Have a Belinda oneshot :P**

**Title is crap, but couldn't think of another one :P**

* * *

_**Melinda and Blaze**_

_Silence_

The two figures lie still on the dusty apartment floor.

Both of their eyes are closed.

They remain silent, the seconds stretching out into minutes, the minutes stretching out even longer.

The man's arm is curved over the woman's stomach, as if he's trying to protect her from harm.

On the wall, the hands of the clock turn round with a soft 'Tick. Tick.'

Slowly, the man opens his eyes and looks down at the woman's face, gazing at her with a look of what could almost be called reverence. It's like he can hardly believe that she's there, lying with him on the dusty old carpet that really could do with a hoover, that she's only a breath away, her midnight hair pooling around both of their heads, tangled with his. Slowly he strokes the curve of her stomach, and receives an answering nudge against his hand, where a small body is shifting, beginning to feel rather cramped inside his mother.  
The mother in question sighs softly, shifting herself, her dark lashes fluttering. "This floor is bloody hard." she mumbles. "Whose idea was it to lie on this again?"  
He glances at her, amused. "Well you were the one who grabbed me as soon as I came through the door and started complaining of sex withdrawal."  
"Hey- not my fault I have a high sex drive!" she pouts.  
"But not high enough to stop you breaking down in tears and demanding cuddles **right now **before I even had the chance to take off my shoes." he says, still sounding amused.  
"Er...hello? Eight months pregnant here?"  
"Don't tell me; hormones?"  
"Got it in one."  
He laughs, sitting up and rubbing his head. "Want anything to eat? Any cravings?"  
She considers this. "Pizza. Pepperoni."  
"Anything for mi lady." He grins, standing up before helping her to her feet and the heading into the kitchen.  
She sinks down on the sofa, watching him as he moves around the kitchen. For a moment the harsh turn to her lips softens, the icy stare melts, the hard set to her face grows more gentle. She watches him with just as much reverence as he watched her, her eyes lingering on the body she knows so well, the soft hair she loves to run her fingers through, and meeting, as he turns around, the blue eyes which make the hard shell around her heart disintegrate.  
"What?" he raises his eyebrows. "Have I got lipstick on my face or something?"  
She shakes her head mutely, the smile still lingering around her lips. "Nah."  
"Well what is it then?"  
"I love you." her smile widened slightly.  
He smiled back, walking over and taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently. "I love you too."

Watch the scene change before your eyes.

"I never regretted it."

The room is broken. The sky is visible through the ceiling. The Walls are crumbling. Floorboards are splintered. Furniture is scorched. Plaster dust coats everything.  
"No matter what they said, what they called me. No matter what they did to me, I never regretted loving you."  
A blood stained, dusty hand rests on the man's cheek.  
"And I never will. Not for one second."  
The blue eyes are the last thing she sees.  
"No. No, don't be stupid. Open your eyes. An ambulance will be here in a minute, just hold on. Hold on, dammit!"  
There is no one left to hear him.  
The woman on his arms lies so still that she could be a statue. But statues are harder to break. Her face, still stained with grey dust, is slack, emotionless, empty of all the energy and vitality that she'd possessed in life, except for the small upwards tilt of the left corner of her lips.  
The inky black hair holds a greyish tinge, tinted slightly with red where the dust had mixed with blood to create a sticky, grainy paste.  
The man stares down at her, the silence deafening, crashing in his ears more painfully than the explosion itself. "Wake up," he whispers, his voice a hoarse croak. "Wake up. Stop screwing with me. I gave up everything for you...you can't leave me...you can't leave me..."  
Only the wind answers him as it blows dark, blood stained tendrils of hair around her face, but her lips don't break into that rare, secret smile, free of malice or spite, the smile she held only for him and her son; her eyes don't open, she doesn't wink at him as she usually would when he walks through the door, the purple irises glittering with promises that she was going to rock his world in a way that no other girl could (and if they did she'd kill them); she doesn't say something slightly insulting, but well intentioned in her rich, lazy drawl, or whisper the secret things that only lovers know. Her lips are still, her eyes are closed and her words are gone where nothing and no one can reach them.  
"Please," he murmurs, keeping his eyes fixed on her face, drinking her in; even in death, in this place, she is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "Please, darling, stop it now. I love you too much to play your games for long."  
She doesn't answer, her eyes stay closed, the lashes clumped together with dust and tears. The splinter, rough and coarse against the smooth white skin of her stomach, still pins her to the ground, darkened with blood around the point of impact, fine needles of wood lodged in her skin around the area.  
He reaches out a trembling hand to stroke her face, now half blinded by tears. "I'm sorry. So fucking sorry, you wouldn't believe. We should never have done this, any of it... So sorry."  
He doesn't even see the piece of masonry that falls from the ceiling.  
Overhead, a crow caws, it's ugly croak rudely breaking the stillness and silence which has descended over the ruins of the small flat. It perches for a moment on the rooftop, before flying away into the sky, leaving the silence to descend once more, the lifeless, numb silence of the dead.

The two figures lie still on the dusty apartment floor.

Both of their eyes are closed.


	14. Empty

**Okay, the first thing that you guys will notice is that Eilidh is not mentioned in this, when she actually really should be because she played a part in Cassie's childhood. This is, however, because I started writing this before Eilidh became involved and, being the lazy sod I am, didn't want to rewrite XD Sorry Eilidh! I'm thinking about doing another one though, which will hopefully have her in! this is my longest Gone RP oneshot, and there's a bit of storytelling and stuff XD I finally finished it yesterday night, so yay! So yeah. Ta dah! A Cassie oneshot :D**** Hope you like!**

* * *

**Cassandra**_  
**Empty**_

_A plump wood pigeon perches comfortably on the window sill of a large white building, which has stood in the city of Yekaterinburg for over three hundred years. It coos softly, blinking it's beady eyes, staring through the window into a large room, which, despite being full of finery, is dimly lit and in a state of disorder. The bird cocks its head, gawking at a small, hunched figure with a swathe of fair hair spilling down it's back, before abruptly launching itself off of the sill in order to avoid the small avalanche of snow which topples from the roof and nearly knocks it to the ground. It flaps away into the grey sky, dodging the snow beginning to fall. The small figure watches it go with blank grey eyes, shivering slightly and wrapping her arms around her skinny form. She sits in the half darkness, in the ruins of finery. A little girl pretending to be a princess._

The room is brighter now, more tidy, the lamps glowing softly and spread a gently sheen of gold over the room. The young woman sits at the window, resting comfortably on gold and cream pillows, her hair gracefully coiled into an elegant bun, her figure fuller than before with more soft curves than protruding bones. The eyes, though, are the same. Outside, the snow is still falling, casting flecks of darkness over her face as she gazes out. The same sense of desperation, sense of loneliness radiates from her just as it did more than twenty years before. She tries not to dwell on the past, but now, looking out into the whirling snow, the sudden memory of the day she sat on the floor of this same bedroom, looked out of this same window at a round wood pigeon, claws its way up from the depths of voluntary oblivion and into her mind.

_The room was wrecked, furniture smashed, clothes littering the floor, books defaced and scattered around the room. But it was none of that which drew her attention. Slowly she walked towards the door opposite her, which led into the room next door…_

But no. She didn't want to think about that. When she thinks about that the emptiness she tries to supress rises up again and consumes her. She tried to divert her thoughts from the subject, but only succeeded in shifting them towards a different memory.

_They were all scared of her. She could tell. And with good reason. The staff cowered in front of her as she walked through the corridors, bobbing curtsies, bowing, never meeting her eyes. It felt amazingly powerful to have so much respect, but at the same time it felt…weirdly empty. It was strange, people being too cared of you to even meet your eyes. She'd been ruler of Zone 4 for over two weeks down and had a firm grasp over the people by now. At first there had been resistance, but a couple of visions had given her plenty of warning and any rebellions had been ruthlessly and brutally crushed. She had, however, also organised help and support for those in need. Whilst her excuse to the others for this was that a ruler needed her people to fear and love her, a small part of her had to admit that it was because she knew how it felt to be cold and helpless and starving, and didn't want others to suffer the same fate, not if they were going to be good subjects. One of her ministers(she had found a group who would help implement her laws like good little lapdogs) had found her the staff because he, unlike Cassie, had realised that she was too young to live alone, especially in the Kharitonov Palace. Cassie had to admit to herself that it was slightly humiliating that, although she could destroy rebel armies with a wave of her hand, she couldn't make herself proper food or even adequately dress herself for the Russian winters. She reached her bedroom and walked inside, shutting the door behind her. The room was large, with pale blue wallpaper decorated with silver. The canopy bed matched, as did the thickly carpeted floor. She was a few steps into the room before she realised that she wasn't alone. There was a woman standing by the fireplace, in which a roaring fire had been set, a woman who seemed to be in her mid-twenties, with black hair and a sallow complexion. She was wearing the blue and white uniform of the staff and bobbed a curtsy when Cassie stared at her._

_"Who are you?" she asked, frowning at the woman._

_"My name is Irina, Miss." She said, straightening up. "I will be your personal maid."_

_"I haven't needed a personal maid so far." Cassie said abruptly, staring at this strange woman._

_"Well you've got one now." The woman said pleasantly, smiling at her._

_Cassie was still staring at her, unsure what to make of her. On the surface, this woman seemed agreeable and good-natured enough, but in her eyes, Cassie could glimpse a hint of steel._

_"Huh." She turned away from the woman, taking off her coat and discarding it on the floor, expecting her to pick it up. She had sat down in a chair and picked up a book before she realised the woman had not moved. Slowly she lowered the book. "Why haven't you picked that up?" she said, hating the childish, petulant quality to her voice._

_"I'm waiting for you to pick it up." Irina replied, still smiling pleasantly._

_"You're my servant. I don't pay you to wait for me to pick things up myself." Cassie said haughtily, closing the book with a snap. "Pick it up."_

_"I think that young girls should learn to clean up after themselves, even if they are little Tsarinas." The woman answered, her voice stern._

_"Well I don't care what you think! So I'm not going to! So there!" Cassie folded her arms, pouting._

_"Pick it up. Now." The woman said, her voice commanding._

_"No!" Cassie slid down from the chair and stamped her foot. "I won't! I am the ruler of Zone 4 and you have no right to speak to me in this way!"_

_"You are also a little girl who needs to be disciplined. How else will you be a good ruler? You will pick up that coat now and hang it on the coat stand, or I will put you over my knee and give you a good smacking."_

_"You can't speak to me like that!" Cassie howled. "You can't do that to me! I'm not a little girl! I'm your ruler!" Darkness began to curl around her fingertips. "I'll punish you! I will!"_

_"You are a spoilt little girl." Irina said calmly. "And you will pick up that coat right this instant."_

_Cassie was never quite sure what happened. All she knew was that the Darkness vanished, her hands reached out and she picked up the coat. She hung it on the coat stand, before turning to stare at Irina, who was smiling kindly._

_"Good girl." The maid said. "Now, I thought maybe we could play a game."_

_"A game?" Cassie replied slightly faintly, still shocked that she'd actually obeyed the maids orders. "I…I'm a leader! A child of Darkness! I don't play games!"_

_"I think that that's part of the problem." The woman said, her arms still folded. "You are a child, but you're not getting the chance to be a child. You've had all this responsibility thrust upon you before you are ready and if you don't take time out to act your age, it's going to break you. I'm here to help you, Cassandra."_

_The little girl stared at her, her lip trembling slightly, her grey eyes wide. After a moment she said in a cracked voice, "I don't know how to play. I've never done it before."_

_"I'll teach you." The woman reached out a hand to her, and to her surprise the girl found herself taking it. "We can play together."_

The snow has formed deep drifts, partially covering some of the windows on the ground floor. The woman stares out over the gardens, the snow stretching out in a deep white blanket, unblemished. There are small lumps where bushes are concealed, and breaks here and there where a tall tree spreads its branches in a protective canopy, but no footprints mark the powdery white, not tracks are scattered across the thick coat. It's beautiful. She sits there, her breath misting up the icy window thinking how beautifiul it is. A blank canvas. Clean and cold and unblemished and empty. So, so empty.

_Her damp hair straggles into her eyes as she runs through the snow, her boots sinking deep into the powdery white, leaving a trail of footprints behind her. Her heart is thudding like crazy in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps, her fingers numb with cold, even inside their thick fur lined mittens. Her pursuer finally seizes her; hands go around her waist grabbing her tightly and spinning her around. She laughs and wriggles, but Irina just spins her faster before setting her back down. Together they make snow angels and have snowball sights until their cheeks are bright red, their noses numb. They walk back inside and leave their coats to dry whilst they sit by the fire and drink hot tea, both wrapped in warm blankets. Every night, Irina tucks her in, making sure she's warm and comfortable and has enough blankets. On the third night, she gives her Arthur, a honey coloured teddy bear who smiles up at her with his embroidered mouth._

_"He'll keep you safe." Irina tells her with a teasing smile. "While I'm not here. He's such a fierce bear; he'll frighten off any bad dreams."_

_Cassie laughs, clutching the bear tighter, his friendly brown eyes gazing up at her as Irina sits by her and tells her bedtimes stories about dragons and mermaids in far off lands, and sings to her until she drifts off to sleep. The teddy bear holds sentinel all night long._

The bed is empty. She runs a hand over the blankets, before lying down on the other side, resting her head on the pillow and breathing in his smell, warm familiar and comforting. He smells like sunlight, like warmth, like comfort. Like home. She is away from home at the moment. Maybe she should do something else while she waits. Maybe she could go out, out to the markets, explore, look around. She used to go there all the time. Maybe she should try again. She immediately shrinks away from the thought. The pain that it brings is too great.

_The market is jam packed. Irina is holding her hand firmly as she is guided through the throng of people, around the stalls, the people selling their wares, people trying to make purchases and people trying to steal whatever they can get their hands on. Irina has dressed her appropriately; in her furs she'd stick out like a sore thumb; here her attire is almost entirely comprised of wool in various degrees to thickness. Her hair is different as well; it only took a little Darkness to make it darker and to change the shape of her face. Irina shows her everything, introducing her to the stallholders she knows pretending that she's her goddaughter. Serafina, she tells them, is Cassie's name. Serafina._

_"Why did you chose this Zone?" Irina asks that night as she's brushing Cassie's hair._

_The little girl stares in the mirror for a moment, before answering. "My mother and father came from here. Yekaterinburg_."

_"What happened? To your parents?" Irina gently tucks a couple of strands of hair behind Cassie's ear._

_"My mother died when I was three. I was glad. I hated her. I never knew my father."_

_"If you hated her, why did you want to come here? Are you looking for your father?"_

_"No." Cassie kept staring at herself in the mirror. "I guess I just…just wanted to find somewhere where I could feel like I belonged."_

_The woman paused. "You belong here. With us. You will be a fine ruler, Cassie." She kissed the top of the little girl's head. "Done. Now bed."_

The visions are strong today. She fights against them, pushing them down, away, so she doesn't have to look at them. Not yet. Not now. She breaths in his scent again, wishing he was here to hold her when they finally took over. She's got better at controlling them though, over the years. Once upon a time she'd have had no choice. The only way to escape would have been to take medication, and that…that hadn't turned out well.

_She should have seen it coming._

_She should have faced up to the visions, not tried to hide from them, shouldn't have taken the pills that would sooth her nerves and stop them, should have been listening, itching, should have stopped it._

_They were gone by the time she arrived back in Yekaterinburg. The grounds were littered with the bodies of dead staff, dead soldiers, dead rebels._

_They wanted to make sure it was safe, search the premises, but she ran inside before they could stop her, through the entrance hall, past the dead butler, up the stairs. She slowed down when she reached her room. Slowly she pushed the door open._

_The room was wrecked, furniture smashed, clothes littering the floor, books defaced and scattered around the room. She moved slowly through the room, staring around in disbelief. Something crunched under foot; she stepped back hastily and saw the shattered remains of a china doll that she and Irina had had a dolls tea party with the day before. She slowly stepped over the porcelain corpse, kept moving through the room. Her foot hit something soft, and she stared down at the decapitated body of Arthur. His head was lying a little way away, one eye missing. She picked him up slowly, before going after the head. His stuffing was hanging out. She gulped back tears, placing him carefully on the bed, before stiffening. There were droplets of blood scattered over the floor. She turned, staring at the door to the adjoining room which was ajar. Slowly she walked towards the door, feeling clumsy, uncoordinated. She pushed the door open, the door to Irina's room. _

_She had met the same fate as the teddy bear._

_Cassie could remember nothing after that but the screaming._

They still whispered about the Yekaterinburg Rebellion today. How she had found every single rebel and had them burnt alive in the middle of the town square. She could remember none of it, not until three days after the executions. It was better that way. The few rare occasions she could remember she could only scream. She took a deep breath, her face pressed into his pillow, her arms curled around it, holding it to her chest. He was missing again today. Locked away upstairs in his private room. She had only been there a few times, in his attic, and only with his permission. She didn't know why he went there, but it was too often, too frequently for her liking. Why would he need to be anywhere other than with her? Didn't he love her? Didn't he need her like she needed him?

Oh God she needed him.

So empty.

So empty she could suck everything around her in, a black hole, a supernova. She needed his love, needed it to fill the emptiness, but it never filled her, never left her whole, just left her needing more and more, left needing to hear his voice, his voice in his ear whispering that he loved, feel his arms around her. Needing to feel like she belonged.

His soft, charming voice in her ear, telling her what she wanted, needed to hear, enchanting her, pulling her in until every moment without him dragged her closer and closer to insanity. The two of them pressed so close together, her arms holding him so close, so close, so he would fill the abyss, make her feel alive, loved, wanted.

He stopped the screams.

When her angel was there, the screams stopped and all she could feel, all she could hear, all she knew was him.

_A little girl playing at being a Princess._

But everyone knows that a Princess is nothing without her Prince.


	15. Summer Children

**A prezzie for the lovely Anni's birthday :) How you enjoy it, sorry if you don't, and if it's not very canon :S Ah well :) Happy birthday amazing person!**

**Also, I couldn't remember Cillian's eyes colour, sorry D: I just went for icy blue like Blaze in the end, if that's wrong, do say and I can edit it XD**

**Cillian is Anni's, Steve is Megan's, Bryony is mine :)**

* * *

_**Summer Children**_

She was born on a warm day in April when the apple blossoms were blooming and a gentle wind was drifting through the streets of Arbour Bay. She weighed almost seven pounds, and when she opened her eyes they were already the shade of dreamy blue as her father's. When she was three months old, her parents were killed in a car crash while she was at home with a babysitter, their car slipping on the icy roads and spiralling over the edge of a bridge. She was sent to relatives first, her grandmother, where she lived until the fatal stroke when her grandmother was fifty six and she was four. She was passed around a series of foster homes, but they were always too full, or she never really fit in. She was five years old when she arrived at Arbour Bay Children's Home.

She walked anxiously up the gravel driveway in her brown leather patent shoes, her social worker holding her firmly by the hand. She and her suitcase were deposited outside the head care workers office whilst forms were filled out and conversations were held in muffled voices. She stared resolutely down at her lap, not even bothering to look around. She'd probably move on from this place soon enough. She remained perfectly still, like a little statue, playing a game with herself to pass the time, to see how long she could go without moving. It was hard, especially as her feet were a long way from the ground, and her hat was itchy, and she was getting too hot in her scratchy red woollen coat. It was only when her leg started to cramp that she moved, fidgeting and stretching. It was only then that she saw the boy.

He had iciest, most piercing eyes she'd ever seen, and she immediately looked back down at her lap, the eye contact making her uncomfortable. After a moment, she slowly peeked up again. He was gone.

-x-

She saw him again at dinner. It was tinned spaghetti and toast, and the toast was burnt and the spaghetti was tepid at best. She was miserably poking at it when she saw him and another boy walk into the room, deep in conversation. It was only when they sat down opposite to her that the boy seemed to notice her again, and he fell silent. She looked back down at her meal instead of meeting his eyes, playing with the slimy strands.

"Not very nice, eh?" The other boy, the blonde one piped up. "They look like worms, don't they? Worms in blood!" He grinned and picked up some in his hand, beginning to suck them up into his mouth with a loud slurping noise. Bryony watched in disgust, but said nothing, not wanting to alienate anyone talking to her. The boy grinned, scooping up another handful, but he stopped when the dark haired boy spoke for the first time in a low voice.

"Stop it, Steve you idiot. You're going to get in trouble."

Steve scowled. "But they _do_ look like worms!"

"I'm not saying they don't. But if you mess with your food you'll get another penalty and then you won't get pudding. Plus you've got yourself in a mess."

Steve glowered, muttering darkly to himself, but did as his companion said before allowing the dark haired boy to wipe his face and hands with kitchen towel from the roll left on the table.

"I'm Steve, by the way!" The boy said, after he'd been cleaned up, still trying to interact with Bryony. "And this is Cillian, my cousin. His name's spelt weird, but mine's easy. I can write, you know, with joined up letters." He shovelled food in his mouth, but continued to talk around the mouthful. "And I'm on the purple reading level. But Cillian's on dark blue. But I can draw better than him." He swallowed. "What's your name?"

She said nothing, still poking her food with her fork, refusing to meet his eyes.

He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I heard that your name's Bryony. I bet I could spell it, if you wanted."

There was another pause as she focused her attention on the limp toast instead. Poke. Poke.

"How old are you?"

Poke poke. Poke poke.

"Five?"

Poke poke. Poke poke.

"I'm older than you. I'm six. But Cillian's going to be seven soon! He's really old! Like, a whole month more than me! We're cousins, did I say?"

Poke poke poke. Poke poke poke.

"Hellooooooo? Bryyyyyyony?"

"Leave her, Steve." The other boy said in bored voice. "She's not interested. And neither am I."

Poke poke poke poke poke. Poke poke poke poke poke.

The blonde boy shrugged, before shoving his last piece of toast down his gullet. He swallowed before glancing over at Bryony's plate. "You going to eat that?"

-x-

Somewhere someone was singing a very out of tune rendition of 'Hark The Herald'. Bryony stared out of her bedroom window at the snow drifting past the panes. The building was Victorian, and no one seemed to have discovered double glazing yet, so she was wrapped up in a thick woollen cardigan, and she was wearing two pairs of socks over her school tights. Her reading book lay on the bed next to her, but she wasn't really interested in the adventures of Biff and Chip and Kipper the dog right now; she was watching the snow and remembering how the ice had shone when the lights flashed on it as her grandmother pulled her across the surface. She had been all arms and legs and knobbly knees, flailing around all over the place like Bambi. Her grandmother had been disappointed.

"Sophia was a natural," she had remarked. "Pity."

She seemed to regret that comment when she saw how Bryony's body automatically slumped in defeat at the words and said no more about it, treating her to a hot chocolate afterwards. But she'd see her eyes on her, every now and then, see her wondering how the child who looked so much like her daughter could have inherited none of her talents.

Bryony was jolted out of her thoughts by what sounded like a herd of heffalumps galumphing down the corridor.

"JINGLE BELLS! BATMAN SMELLS! ROBIN BLEW AWAY! UNCLE BILLY LOST HIS WIL-"

There was a muffled yelp as the singer hit the floor with a thump.

"Cilliaaaaaaan! What did you do that for?!"

"You're not meant to actually trip when someone trips you." An exasperated voice replied. "You're meant to catch yourself."

"Well I obviously didn't!"

"That's because you're an idiot."

"I'm not an idiot! I've moved up to navy blue too now, and I can add numbers, I-"

The blonde boy continued protesting, but the dark haired boy didn't seem to notice. He'd seen Bryony peeking curiously around the door at them.

Bryony felt herself go bright red as his eyes met her and she quickly darted back inside her room, shutting the door tight. It was silly, to want friends. She'd probably be moving on soon anyway. But she still wanted them, nevertheless.

-x-

The lump of snow whizzed past her ear and disintegrated against a fence. She quickly spun around, her eyes wide, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

"Soooooorry!" he blonde boy called, giving her a cheeky grin.

The taller, dark haired boy said nothing, running his eyes over her as if she was an interesting experiment in a laboratory.

She moved a little away from them and sat under a tree, poking around in the snow. She could feel it near, the fading life…

She took off her glove and gingerly poked her fingers into the snow. Slowly, the life grew stronger, and stronger. When it was completely healed she stood up again, heading back towards the house, but she was hit in the back of the head by a snowfall and fell flat on her face, winding herself. She lay on her front, not moving for a moment, trying to remember how to bring air into her lungs. At last she managed to break through the heavy, constricted feeling around her lungs and gasp in pure, cold air. When she opened her eyes, she saw two booted feet by her head. Rolling onto her back, she found herself staring up into eyes as icy blue as the compact snow she was lying on. It took her a moment to realise that he had extended a mittened hand to her.

It was a moment longer before she took it.

He pulled her to her feet, and she slowly brushed snow down off of her coat.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and she gave him a tiny nod to show that the apology was accepted before turning and heading back towards the house once more.

It was only after she was gone that he saw the lone daffodil blooming under a tree amidst the snow.

-x-

It was a balmy March day when he found her in the main office. She was standing by the desk, her fingers buried in the earth of a small pot plant. He wondered what in the world she was doing until he saw the dead, withered flower stretch and turn green. He cry of surprise startled her so much that she spun around, knocking the plant off the desk all together. The clay smashed on the floor and earth spilled out over the worn carpet, but he stepped right forwards, trampling the mess further into the carpet, seizing her wrist.

"You," he said hoarsely, staring at her face. "You're like us."

And that was when she shoved him so hard away from her that he fell on his behind. It didn't stop the grin from spreading all over his face. Another person. Another person like them with an ability which didn't make sense, an anomaly. She was an another anomaly. An angry another anomaly.

"Why did you do that?" She cried, looking both furious and miserable at the same time.

"Do what?" He said, frowning.

"Make me break it! And then _step_ on it!" She wiped tears from her eyes, before crushing down and cupping the rather crushed plant in her hands.

He blinked. "But…it's only a plant."

"It's something alive." She said, her voice shaking. "And that makes it beautiful."

Slowly, the plant began to heal, it's broken leaves twisting together.

Cillian carefully shuffled forwards and picked up the broken shards of clay. The girls eyes narrowed, but she didn't stop him. He grabbed a reel of sellotape from the desk and slowly, carefully, stuck it back together. He scooped what dirt he could scavenge back into the pot and she carefully repotted the plant back inside.

"What do you mean?" She whispered, as they both watched the plant settle itself into its new home. "When you say that I'm 'like you'?"

He smiled, the first time she'd seen him smile, and he began to tell her in a low voice about their abilities, whilst outside the first buds of blossom began to bloom.

-x-

"Come on Bry! Hold on!"

"I'm going to die!"

"No you're not. We won't let you."

"Oh God I am! Oh no, please, Cillian, no, don't let go, don't let go, OH MY GOD NO!"

Bryony screamed at the top of her lungs as Cillian let go of the bicycle handlebars and she was left to freewheel down the small hill, clinging on for dear life.

They found her in a bush at the bottom, pulling bits of twig out of her hair.

"I forgot how to use the brakes." She mumbled, looking rather embarrassed and bedraggled.

"You'll learn eventually, Bry!" Steve said, grinning and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I did! Cillian taught me, and he taught himself, so he could teach me. Although I scream a lot less when he let go of the handle bars."

"You wet yourself." Cillian said, following them back up the hill with the bike. "Literally."

"Liar!"

"It's true."

"Is not!"

-x-

They walked on either side of her as they entered the front yard, and she was vaguely reminded of bodyguards.

"Right." She turned to Steve. "Got your lunch?"

"Yes."

"Got your second lunch for when you've eaten the first one at break?"

"Yes."

"And your after school snack?"

"You can't call that _thing_ a snack."

"Steve, it's an apple! It's a healthy piece of fruit."

"I don't want it! It's manky, Bryony! Give me something else."

"I don't have anything else, you should have said earlier."

"But Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!"

"Here, take this." Cillian rolled his eyes and pressed something round into Steve's hand. "I don't like them that much anyway. Right, I'm going to take Bry over to the other Year Seven's now, okay?"

Steve watched as they headed inside the building, before glancing down at the orange fruit in his hand and shrugging. He'd never really had one before. Surely it couldn't hurt to try one…

-x-

"…And she's always hanging around with those two boys. The good looking ones in the year above, you know."

"Yeah, well it's not like she's exactly going to have anything _going on_ with them, is it? I mean, she's not exactly…" The speaker trailed off, trying to think of an accurate description. "Their type."

"That's true." There was a pause. "Wait. What are you saying?"

"No! No! Oh God no! They're _cousins_!"

"Yeah, but they're _first_ cousins." Another voice piped up. "So you have your cousins and then your first cousins…"

"Yeah, honey, that's not right."

"That's _so_ not right."

"Look, all I meant was that they normally go for girls with a bit more…figure. You know, the leggy ones with swishy hair and boobs and stuff."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Still I bet she thinks she's in with a chance. Why else would she still be lurking around them when it's obvious that they don't want her there?"

There was a loud thud as a trainer dropped to the floor, and the girls spun around in time to see a red faced Bryony making a swift exit from the room.

-x-

"Steve, put some sun cream on now or you'll burn!"

"But Bryony, it's smeeeelly!"

She rolled her eyes, beginning to rub it into his face.

"But Bryony, I taaaaaaaaan!"

"Tanning doesn't stop you getting skin cancer."

He huffed, but his protestations ceased as she began rubbing it into his ears.

"Surely a fifteen year old can do their own sun cream?" Cillian drawled from where he was lying lazily on a rug, basking in the sun like a lizard.

"I'm not taking any chances. I know that you'll do yours properly, but he's going to miss patches and then he'll just have random patches of burnt skin all over him." Bryony said stubbornly, rubbing the cream into Steve's back. "Right. You're done."

"Great. What's for lunch?"

She sighed. "Aren't you going to go swimming?"

"Yeah, but I want lunch first."

"You'll get cramp. We can have lunch later."

"No I won't! My digestive system is amazing!"

"It's not even twelve yet!"

"Buh I'm hungry!"

"Didn't you have breakfast?"

"Yeah…but I want another breakfast!"

"Well this is your lunch so you can't have it."

"But I want it! We can buy another lunch?"

"We don't have the money too."

"But Brrrrrrrry!"

"Steve. Shut up." Cillian muttered, sounding irritated. "Bryony made the lunch, so she chooses when we eat it."

"_Thank_ you, Cillian." Bryony sighed, brushing sand off of the picnic blanket. "I'm going to go swimming. Any of you coming?"

"Don't want to." Steve mumbled sulkily, flopping down on the rug.

"Suit yourself. Cillian?"

"You go. I'll come in a minute." He waved a hand lazily.

She stood up and pulled off her t-shirt and shorts and started heading towards the sea. It was a moment before Cillian realised that Steve was ogling her.

"Steve!" He snapped. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking her out."

"She's our friend, not one of your…girls."

He shrugged. "I'm just looking. I've never seen her in a bikini before. She's got a nice butt. And the top half isn't bad either-" He yelped as he received a _thwack_ across the ear. "What was that for?!"

"Just…stop talking about her like that." He mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.

-x-

Summer finally faded away, along with green leaves and wildflowers. Autumn drifted in, painting the world gold and red, and then she too, in her turn, died and was replaced by frost in the mornings and finally blankets of snow over the fields. But all things have their time, and winter too finally melted away, and once again the trees began to grow leaves, plants began to arch their bodies up towards the sun. She had been born on a warm day in April, and all though this was March, the blossoms were still beginning to flower. They all lay on a carpet of pink and white petals, under the tree where a daffodil had bloomed years ago. This year, the tree itself had needed help, and she'd successfully managed to cure its infection, although it had taken some effort. But now it was healed, and she was warm and sleepy and safe. She was just drifting off, when one of the boys spoke her name.

"Bryony?"

"Hmm?" She mumbled, turning to look at him.

"When we're at University, or working or, whatever we do after school…you'll visit us, right?"

"Of course I will." She smiled. "But that's not going to be for a while."

"I know," the boy said, giving her a small smile, "I just…was thinking about it."

"Well I promise, okay?" She smiled back, pushing her short golden curls out of her eyes with one hand.

"We'll take you out to all the parties and get you drunk." Another voice piped up, from the other side of her. "That'd be hilarious!"

"Thanks Steve." She said dryly, but when she turned to him, she was still smiling. "I can safely promise you both that it'll take far more than a university to separate us."

She closed her eyes, again, tilting her head up towards the sky and the sweet smell of blossom. The pink blooms above them were already filling out. But although she'd cured the tree's infection, some of the blossoms were still black and withered at the tips.


	16. In The Beginning Was The Fall

**So I stayed up until four thirty am fiddling with the darkness-official tumblr, and was just about to go to bed when this crazy idea popped into my head. And then I just had to fucking write it, didn't I? It's now half-past five in the morning, so please excuse any mistakes because I think my head is going to fall off.**

**This isn't canon, it's just a random, probably Supernatural inspired, idea wot I had.**

**Yup. Hope you enjoy!**

**xxx**

* * *

**Darkness**  
_In The Beginning Was The Fall_

I fell in a blazing trail of light, like a burning silver shooting star in the night sky. Except I was the morning star and I was streaking across the rose pink tinge of dawn. It must have looked pretty from down there on earth; a flickering shimmer of light in the air. But for me it was pain and fire and heat. I was in agony. I _was_ agony. My blazing, burning wings were ripped from my back, and I screamed, I remember, screamed and screamed and screamed as they were torn out from the root and consumed and dissolved in flame.

I fell forever.

For an eternity.

At least, that's what it felt like.

But sooner or later, there came the impact.

The ground bucked underneath me, shock waves spreading out through the terrain. It must have set of half a dozen earthquakes at least. I lay there in the crater, smouldering. From what I've seen of the human world today, you imagine it as something romantic. A fallen angel. With pretty wings which sparkle and bare rippling chests, or dramatic gothic maidens with drooping pennons and bloody tears dripping down their beautiful, pale faces.

I was a burnt, twisted mass of flesh and bones. The impact had shattered me, broken me until I was nothing more than a jumble of blackened, roasted parts, with two streaks of flame licking down my back, more agonising than any other pain I was experiencing right then. I don't know how long I lay there, screaming, but it must have been a while. Sooner or later, the screaming stopped.

_Let me die_. I thought. _Let me die._

But angels can't die. We just endure, endlessly.

So that is what I did.

I lay there and endured, until the crater healed, until the earth began to repair itself, until I was sealed in underground. I suppose that's where your idea of 'hell' comes from; a fiery pit under the earth. Well, I was under the earth, and I was fire itself, so I suppose you were right. I stayed in my hell as the trees grew over me, their roots twisting down to keep me company in my solitude. Human life arrive in the surrounding area, settlements were made, wars were fought, invaders arrived, more settlements were built, more wars were fought. Eons passed, and there I lay, burning, but not just with pain.

I still burnt with love, with adoration, with the desperate longing that a child feels for its father's approval. But my father had cast me down, for daring to love him more than anything. And gradually…gradually…that fire began to blaze in a different fashion.

It's funny how love can become hate.

But as I lay there aflame, buried under the debris of millennia, I learnt just how the most unconditional adoration can become the vilest loathing. That was to help me later on.

By the time they found me, my body was long gone, burnt away by the inferno. Only my spirit remained, my once shining spirit, reduced to a dull seething mass of shadows.

The set me loose when they were digging the foundations for the lab. It was growing dark, and they didn't see me as I wound around their ankles, slipping away into the shadows of the forest, biding my time. I just had to wait for the right time, the right person…

The right person was a twenty six year old woman call Catherine O'Sullivan. I could see into her mind, see how desperate she was for a son, see her despair at the news that she was infertile. And for the first time in thousands of years, I found my voice.

_Come to me. I will heal you_.

I still had some powers. Healing. Mind reading. I could shape my shadows into whatever shape I desired. And these powers were enough. Catherine O'Sullivan agreed to my bargain and I healed her infertility. She went away, and I waited for her to return with a child, an unwanted female child. A child that I could use to reclaim an actual body for myself. Once I had a body, then I could truly begin. But Catherine O'Sullivan tried to cheat me. So I, in return, made sure to ruin her marriage. But when she finally brought the child to Arbour Bay, she didn't give her to me. She left her on the door of the police station and fled. But still, that was close enough. I made sure that the little girl grew up with my voice always whispering in her ear, in her dreams. Little Mia. But she never came to me. Something always stopped her. So I decided to take more drastic action. The scientific complex was finished. And I found its occupants to be quite…interesting. So I fiddled a little bit here, a little bit there, enough to use their radiation experiments to fuel me. Give me a little extra 'kick', as you might say. And the effect that had…the effect that had, I didn't expect. Even though I had fallen, I was still an angel. And mixing my angelic energy with radiation only enhanced it. It spread out throughout the town, and to my delight I found that some children, little humans, still forming, were…affected by it in some delightful ways. Even my little Mia. And my plan began to develop. I just had to wait, wait until they were grown, wait until I could lure them to the lab…

I planted the seeds of the idea in some of the scientists' heads. A school trip to the lab. A few select students to try out the new virtual simulator. It worked like a dream. And once all my not-so-little children were plugged in, then the games really began. Like I said, I get inside people's heads. And when the children were living in their heads, I would have power over their lives. By this point I had found Cassandra. Her power made her wise beyond her years, and a decent tool for helping to carry out my wishes. Besides, her mother didn't treat her well. The first thing I had Cassandra do was kill her. I'd had enough of bad parents. But even with Cassandra, my plan wasn't entirely successful. I managed to win over some of my children, but not all of them. And all of them was what I needed. Over the next five years, I managed to recruit more. Enough to sway the tide in our favour. We conquered and defeated. We won the world. But there were still some who incessantly resisted, who kept fighting against us. And just owning the world wasn't good enough for me. No. I had to own the humans too. All of them. Of the creatures that my father loves more than he ever loved me. What are you? You are nothing special. Nothing. Nothing at all. You're weak, and feeble and flimsy. And you're scared of me because I show you what you really are. With me, you're just wild animals, full of lust and violence and hate and dull cunning. You fear me because I strip away the layers and show humanity what it really is; a pack of wild, untamed monkeys jabbering and screaming at the dark.

I hope you're watching now, Father. I hope you see me take your monkeys and crush the souls out of them, one by one.

I was the morning star, I shone bright and clear. But bright lights cast shadows. And shadows are Darkness incarnate.


	17. Broken Crown

**A very, very belated birthday present for Megan :) Set in Evil Darkness World Seven Year Later. :P Inspired by 'Broken Crown' by Mumford and Sons.**

* * *

**_Cat_**

_Broken Crown_

* * *

**_trust_**_ (trst)_

noun._  
__**1. **__Firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing._

* * *

Trust is a strange thing. Trust is placing your soul in the palm of someone's hand and hoping that they don't crush it in their fist. She'd never trusted anyone, not really. Not for a long time, anyway. Not since Steve had left. That was the thing about trust. It took lifetimes to build, seconds to disintegrate, like ash on the wind. She hadn't even completely trusted her father, even though she'd worshipped him for so long. There were still those niggling doubts, the screams she'd heard behind closed doors, the bruises that had blossomed on her mother's arms like poppies, red and purple on white. Of course, she deserved it, that's what he had always told her, and she'd trampled down any doubts she'd had like weeds underfoot. But there was still that little twisted feeling that she got every time she saw the tear stains on her mother's face, that little sick feeling in her stomach whispering _"But what if?" _That was one of the reason's she'd fought Steve's accusations so vehemently, to crush down that stupid little voice, one the reasons she'd been so furious when those words spilt out of his mouth, helping those weeds to grow stronger, to start smothering the belief she had in her father's words. She found herself torn between the two of them, brother and father; and found herself unable to trust either.

So why..?

* * *

_**safe** (seɪf)  
_adjective._  
1. Protected from or not exposed to danger or risk; not likely to be harmed or lost._

* * *

There was no safety in trust. Any second the rug could be pulled out from under your feet, any moment the hand would close, and there would only be pain and misery and the all too familiar sense of betrayal. So why did she feel safe with him? This boy –man, now- who she trusted more than her father, more than her brother? Why did she feel protected, away from danger or risk? Why did she feel like with him, no one could ever harm her, that she would never be lost?

* * *

**_safety _**_(seɪfti)  
_noun._  
__**1.**__ The sound of Adrion breathing softly next to her through the night.  
__**2.**__ The touch of his skin when her cheek rested on his shoulder.  
__**3**__. His arm around her, encircling her, making her feel wanted._

* * *

Maybe it was the way his eyes softened whenever they met hers. Maybe it was the sound of his laugh whenever she cracked a dirty joke. The smell of his skin whenever she laid her head on his chest. That little noise he made when she kissed the hollow where his collarbones met. There were a hundred, a thousand tiny things which all added up to make one. To make a whole. And that's what he was. Her whole. Even in the state she was in now, she knew that. She didn't know how to tell him, how to make her fumbling tongue find the words which would convey to him all that he was, all that he shouldn't be.

Because he shouldn't.

She grappled with the thought.

He should be nothing to her, no more than an ant beneath her feet. She should be strong, invincible, side by side with her father, beautiful, powerful, majestic. Unstoppable. That was what she'd trained for her whole life, wasn't it? To rule alongside the man she idolised, to govern the lands they'd conquered, to wear the crown she'd craved for so long?

But now…

The crown was broken. Twisted. The dream was irreparably soured.

The look on his face when he'd held her mother's corpse in his arms, the knife still in Cat's hand's dripping warm, fresh blood…

The coldness, the empty detachment in his eyes when he looked at her.

She'd been the chosen one. Not Steve. _Her_. She was special, he'd told her so. He'd been so proud of her. But then the bitch had left and the cracks had started appearing. Why did he even need her mother when he had her? Her childish mind had been unable to comprehend it. The woman was a wreck, her very existence an insult to their master. He had Cat to love and be proud of, and any woman he wanted to fulfil his other needs. That woman should have been nothing to him.

And yet…

Those years had been some of the darkest of her life. And now, thinking about it, she blamed him. Her father.

Her mouth twisted slightly as she thought it.

Hypocrite.

How dare he rage over her relationship with Adrion when his coldness had sent her straight into his arms?

Her mother had been gone for almost eight years and she, Cat, had suffered for it, and it wasn't fair! She had been loyal, she had stayed, but he never smiled at her the way he used to, never gave her those words of encouragement that she'd come to expect. She worked harder than ever, determined to dredge up the old Zeb, to make him proud of her once more, but she saw less and less of him as it became clear that her mother wasn't coming back, and although he ran the county as usual she sometimes caught him staring into nothingness, as if reliving the past.

Of the women that frequented his room, the most common hair colour was red.

The only person she had left was Adrion. Was it any wonder they grew so close?

Her friend. Her best friend. Her only friend.

How she'd hated him for that.

For being her only friend.

How she'd loved him for that too.

She'd played the game the only way she knew, with ruthless determination, intending to take sadistic pleasure in capturing his heart. But there were two players in this game, and before she knew what was happening…

Pawn takes queen.

Checkmate.

She was his and he was hers.

Her heart was weak and flawed, but he took her hand and suddenly that didn't matter anymore. And suddenly, she didn't want to be consigned to Darkness, she turned her face towards the light and it was like she could breathe for the first time, fresh, clean air, and she gasped it in like a drowning girl who had never tasted air before.

And for a moment, she wanted to take the broken crown and the road that her father had laid out for her and fuck them all away to hell.

But it wasn't that simple. Not with her mind shattered like it was.

How could she trust him when she didn't even know who he was? Didn't even know if he was real? When she didn't even know if she was real?

Waves of memories roiled and crashed inside her head, changing and mutating until she didn't know what was real. He didn't even exist in some of them, and sometimes when she looked up she was in the arms of a stranger. Other times, he was the man she loved with all of her heart. But most of the time she wasn't sure and she hated him but loved him, but who was he and it was all too confusing, too painful, and she thought that she would shatter, shatter and break and fly into a million tiny pieces because her mind was on fire and the waves were stormy and her thoughts were descending into a whirlpool and she didn't know who she was or where she was or what was happening, and she couldn't feel her body anymore, she was too wrapped up in her mind and everything was cracking and she was falling and falling-

But his arms were around her, anchoring her-

But who was he, who was this ma-

He was safety.

And suddenly she could breathe once more and feeling spread back through her body and she would kiss him just to feel alive again.

And she would drink him in hungrily, like a shipwrecked sailor finding fresh water, filling up the emptiness inside, soothing the dry, angry thirst and washing away the bitter taste in her mouth.

And she wouldn't care, in that moment, whether he was real or not, because for a second it felt real, and good and he was everywhere and nowhere and for a moment she couldn't think and couldn't dwell on the broken, insane mess that was her mind, all there was were him and his lips setting her on fire.

Her knight.

She never thought she would need one.

In the stories she'd read as a child, there was always the knight, the brave, dashing knight who would defend the poor, trembling, weak princess.

And she had laughed, because she herself was a princess, or as good as, and she didn't need anyone to protect her, anyone to defend her because she was the fighter, she brought death to those who would harm her and she didn't need anyone to do that for her.

And she had protected him, in the past, when she'd needed too, and he'd protected her. Watching each other's backs, the perfect fighting partners.

But now…

She hated this, this weakness, when she wanted to fight.

And she'd fight him when she was angry, when she was hopeless, when there seemed to be nothing to do but lash out again and again and scream and scream and make someone hurt the way she was hurting, as if that could take away the pain.

But he would fend her off and hold her until she calmed down, until she could only shake and sob in his arms, to her eternal shame. But he would stroke her hair and whisper softly to her until she was calm again, still in his arms. Because he understood her, more than anyone else. More than her father. More than her uncle. More even than Steve, whose mind she had shared for the first ten years of her life. He saw the ball of hard anger and self-loathing that was lodged at the centre of her chest, saw the wild animal who wanted nothing more than to run and, and keep running without cages or bars, who would lash out at anyone who came close.

And he didn't care.

He didn't think her a monster.

And she loved him for it.

She loved him because he made her feel…

Human.

And that, in turn…

Made her feel safe.


	18. Hogwarts Shorts Part I

**The Serpent Queen**

Jenny groaned, stretching out her arms and flexing her wrists to try and ease some of the tension that had built up during today's mock exam. Her hand had begun cramping halfway through, but no way was she going to let that stop her writing; in fact, she had been determined to get full marks. A lot of people had told her that she should be in Ravenclaw with a brain like hers, and in some ways she supposed that that should be a compliment. But she knew that she was in the right house. In fact, the main reason she liked getting full marks was to wind Ravenclaws up. It had been no surprise to her that she had been made head girl at the beginning of this year. Despite a shaky, often violent start at Hogwarts, she had turned out to be quite the leader. Most of the younger years were in awe of her, and even her own classmates showed her a good deal of respect. God, had she earned that. But over the years, a lot of her house had begun to trust her, due to her steadfast, hardworking and sometimes cheeky nature, and once you'd earnt the trust of a Slytherin, it was for life. In addition, she'd also tutored quite a lot of the younger years, and most of them were in her debt. Yes, it was good to be a head girl. And it was then she heard the crying.

Her ears pricked up and her eyes narrowed as she stopped and searched the corridors for the source. Even though she wanted nothing more than to go back to the common room, have one of the first years fetch her a cup of tea and then relax in front of the fire with her friends, it was her responsibility to investigate. Heading towards the sound, she heard signs of a scuffle. Rounding a corner, she came across two boys and a girl pushing what looked like a first year around the corridor. Recognising two of them as Slytherins, she called to the sharply; "Bletchly! Knot! What do you think you are doing?"

They spun around, and their smirks quickly metamorphosed into looks of pure terror. "J-Jenny…um…we were…"

"We were just having some sport with a first year," the second boy, a Ravenclaw said, shrugging. "It was just a harmless bit of fun."

"A harmless bit of fun?" Jenny advanced slowly, and despite himself, the boy took a step back. "She's crying."

"Oh come on, Jen, she's just a Hufflepuff," the girl, Bletchly, said. She quailed under the look Jenny gave her.

"Firstly. Never call me Jen again or I will curse you into the hospital wing. Secondly, I don't care what house she is, she a first year, she's tiny and you are all fourth years. If you think that picking on a first year who can barely cast Lumos makes you look big, then you are very, _very_, wrong. It makes you look like cowardly little shits who are so insecure about their own position that they have to resort to fighting someone who can't possibly beat them, for a couple of years at least. It's little pricks like you two," here she gestured at the Slytherins, "Who give _my_ house a bad name. If you want to fight someone, go and challenge someone with the skills to match you, you dirty cowards. I may turn a blind eye to the odd duel or fight, but I will _not_ tolerate bullying, do you understand me?"

The two of them nodded mutely, their eyes wide and terrified.

"Oh come on, we were just messing-"

The Ravenclaw wibbled as Jenny towered above him, her dark eyes flashing. "Detention, this Friday," she snapped. "If you ever speak to me out of turn again, or try arguing with me, I'll make it a month's worth, do you understand?"

The boy nodded silently, his shoulder's slumping.

"And you two," she gestured at the others. "You can tell your friends that if I catch anyone else bullying, there will be trouble."

They gave swift, silent nodes as well.

"Now get out of here." She waved a hand and they all but ran back towards their respective common rooms. Jenny watched them go, before turning to the tiny blonde Hufflepuff girl. "Are you okay?"

The girl nodded, rubbing away tears.

"What's your name?"

"S-Sophia. Sophia-Mae."

"It's nice to meet you," Jenny said. "I'm Jennifer Aubameyang, head girl. Has this been going on a while?"

The girl nodded. "A couple of months."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"I-I have some friends in the second year. They guessed something was going on, but I didn't want to cause any trouble, so I didn't say anything."

"Okay." _Typical Hufflepuff._ "Well they're not going to give you any more trouble, I'll see to that."

"Sophia!"

Jenny looked up. A brown haired boy was running towards them down the corridor. He skidded to a halt beside the girl. "Are you okay? I couldn't find you after your class today…" He trailed off when he saw Jenny. "Um…"

"Jenny Aubameyang, head girl. Your friend here has been experiencing a bit of trouble with a couple of other students, Mr..?"

"Damian," he said, giving her a nervous smile, before shooting a look of concern at the younger girl. "Blaze Damian. What kind of trouble?"

Jenny gave a wan smile. "Let's just say that that trouble is over, and if she experiences anymore, come straight to me and I'll nip it in the bud, okay?"

"Okay." He cast a questioning look at Sophia, before turning to look back at Jenny. "Thank you. I'll escort her back to her dorm now."

"You're welcome." They turned and began to head off. "Oh, Blaze?"

The boy turned back to her. "Yes?"

"If you're the second year I've heard about, you are struggling a bit with your wand work in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Tuesday, 6 o'clock, Fourth Corridor. I'll be giving you a bit of tutoring."

"Urm…" he flushed slightly. "Thank you. I'll see you then."

"See you then Mr Damian." She turned smartly and began to walk away. It was time for that cup of tea.

* * *

**The Lioness and Her Pride****_  
Part I_**

Melinda really shouldn't have been disappointed that her parents hadn't been there to see her and her brother off, but she was all the same. She hadn't expected it, but a little part of her had kept hoping, despite the odds. However, it was just her, Phee, their driver and Beatrice, the nanny, as they walked across the bustling platform, Beatrice pushing one trolley, the chauffer pushing the other. She glanced around at the other students as they moved through the crowd, trying to identify the other first years, her future class mates. They were easy to spot; they were the ones looking scared, or whose parents were crying. She felt a twinge of jealousy and swiftly pushed it down. It wasn't like she was missing out on much; even if her parents had been there they would have been cold and distant. As usual. She noticed that Phee was shaking slightly, and reached out to squeeze his hand. "You'll be okay," she said softly. "You'll make loads of friends, and if not then you'll always have me."

He nodded, his lip trembling slightly. "What if we're not in the same house?"

"That doesn't matter. It will be good to have some of our own space, but we'll still be able to visit each other whenever we like."

"But Mel, what about…" he gulped and lowered his voice. "The…the nightmares? And…and…" his face flushed with shame.

"For the nightmares, I got you this." She pressed a small parcel into his hand. "And as for…the other problem, I'll let the house elves know, first thing. Okay?"

"But…but what if people find out?"

"The people who matter don't mind, and the people who mind don't matter. And if they give you trouble, I'll make them very sorry, okay?"

He gave a little nod, a smile spreading onto his face. "Thanks Mel," he said, before hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, releasing him after a couple of seconds.

"Come on, we need to get on the train."

Beatrice and Stevens had already loaded their luggage on board and found them a compartment. Beatrice handed them each a cat basket.

"Remember to feed them, yes?" she said, sniffling slightly as if she was trying not to cry. "And remember to have fun, yes?" She pulled them in and hugged them tightly, before kissing them both on the cheeks. "I will see you both again in the holidays, ne'cest pas?"

They both nodded. Stevens shook both of their hands, before they climbed on boards the train and sat themselves down in their compartment. They waved enthusiastically to Beatrice and Stevens as the whistle blew and the train slowly began to chug away from the station. When they were out of sight, they both sat back in their seats, Orpheus looking out of the window curiously.

The compartment door opened, and Melinda looked up.

"Excuse me," a girl said in a nervous voice. "Can I sit here, please?"

She was tiny, with wide green eyes and a pale, pointed face covered in freckles. Everything about her was pointy, her bony elbows, her little chin, her ski slope of a nose, even her tiny ears which Melinda could see poking out through a swathe of dark red hair. She had a sallow, almost miserable look around her pallid face.

"Sure," Melinda said, getting up to help her with her trunk, helping her to heft it up onto the luggage rack. "I'm Melinda Black, and this is my brother Orpheus."

The girl smiled, and her pointy face lit up, and Melinda suddenly saw how pretty she was, an almost hidden prettiness which was revealed only when she smiled.

"I'm Mia," she said. "Mia O'Sullivan. It's nice to meet you. And thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," Melinda said, sitting down and patting the seat next to her. The girl joined her, pushing her heavy hair out of her face.

"So…um…do you know a lot about Hogwarts?" the girl said, cocking her head to one side like a nervous sparrow.

"I know some," Melinda answered. "Both of my parents went there. We were mainly bought up by Beatrice, our nanny though, and she went to Beauxbatons." She saw the confusion on the girl's face. "Beauxbatons is a magical school in France. You're muggle born, aren't you?"

The girl shrugged. "I might be. I'm not sure. I'm adopted, and I don't know who my real parents are. My adoptive parents are muggles though." She hesitated. "Is that a bad thing?"

Melinda thought carefully before arguing. "Some people think so. Our family is pureblood, and one of the most ancient houses in the country. Our parents have often told us that muggles are beneath us. Luckily for Phee and I, however, they didn't realise that our nanny was actually muggleborn. We have thankfully escaped out parents prejudices." Her face twisted. "Truth be told, I don't have the best relationship with my parents and would really like to get as far away from their toxic ideals as possible. So you won't find any prejudice with us, at least. To be honest, these prejudices are often viewed as extremely outdated anyway. Don't worry too much about it."

Mia looked extremely relieved. "So it's like segregation in America. It used to be a big issue, but it's been resolved and only a few outdated people actually care anymore?"

Melinda nodded. "Pretty much." A curious look stole over her face. "What happened in America?"

Mia smiled, before launching into an explanation of Race politics in 20th century America. By the time she finished, Melinda was pretty positive that the girl was going to be in Ravenclaw.

The Great Hall was decorated with hundreds of floating candles. Melinda tilted her head back to look at the ceiling, her eyes widening when she saw the starry sky above. She glanced at Mia, whose eyes were practically bulging out of her head with wonder and curiosity. She looked around her as the women at the front kept calling names. Phee was right next to her, clinging tightly to her hand. She gave his a reassuring squeeze. They would be called up any minute now…

"Black, Melinda."

She gave Orpheus a smile and eased her hand out of his, heading up towards the dais, her head held high. She sat gracefully on the stool, the hall disappearing from sight as the hat fell over her eyes.

_Hmmm…a Black. But not like the Black's I've seen before._

_I suppose not,_ she replied mentally.

_Curious. There's intelligence, yes. Kindness too, if you let it out. Ooooh, and cunning, a lot of cunning. You could be great, you know._

An image of herself as a powerful dark sorceress flashed into Melinda's mind, and she couldn't help a tiny smile curling around her lips. But then she thought of Phee, and of Beatrice and the harm that had been done to muggleborns like her by people seeking greatness.

_I'll find greatness in my own way. Not through cruelty._ She thought. _I am not my parents._

The hat chuckled softly. _Interesting. Very, very interesting. If you're sure, better be…_

"Gryffindor!"

The table to her right exploded with cheers. Melinda removed the hat and walked confidently over to them, a wicked smile spreading across her face. Her parents would be livid. Good.

"Black, Orpheus."

She turned her head to watch her brother sit on the stool. The hat was only on his head for a couple of seconds when it cried out; "Hufflepuff!"

Melinda smiled and clapped as her brother stumbled over towards the yellow table, who welcomed him with welcome arms and kind smile. Yes, he would be happy there. And her being in Gryffindor should that most of the heat off him when her parents found out. She gave him a smile and a thumbs up across the hall.

"_I'm proud of you,_" she mouthed, and he smiled back at her.

"_I'm proud of you too_," came the reply.

* * *

**The Lioness and Her Pride  
****_Part II_**

Melinda gently teased a knot out of the mane of red hair in front of her, her expert fingers deftly unravelling the mass of strands. Her best friend had been on edge all night, and Melinda knew that the best way to get the girl to calm down was to play with her hair, make her a cup of tea and have a good gossip. Tonight though, despite Melinda's best efforts, it didn't seem to be working. Mia was biting her lip, a sure sign that something had upset her, and Melinda was pretty sure that the girl would draw blood in a minute if she didn't stop.

"What's up?" she asked casually as she began to twist the girls thick hair into an intricate braid.

"What? What do you mean? Nothing's wrong, I'm fine!" the girl gabbled, starting slightly.

"Mia, you're biting your lip." Melinda fastened the plait and swung herself down into the armchair next to the girl. "Talk to me."

Mia dropped slightly, staring fixedly at the floor.

"Come on Mia. Spill."

"I spoke to Zeb today," Mia whispered.

Melinda started slightly. "Zeb? What did he say?"

"He…he…"

"Mia." She gripped the girls hand tightly. "What did he say? Come on. You can tell me anything. I won't get mad."

"It's me," Mia said in a small voice.

Melinda froze. "What?"

"The girl he likes…it's me. He asked me out."

Melinda's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see."

"I said no," Mia said hurriedly. "I mean, you're my best friend! I couldn't do that to you, not when it's only been two weeks!"

Melinda's only answer was to stand up and hurl her teacup at the wall. The fine china shattered against the stone, making Mia jump.

"Reparo." Melinda pointed her wand at the cup, which reverted to its previous form. She walked over and picked it up, before placing it back on the table. "Sorry. Had to get that out of my system," she said in a voice which only trembled slightly. "Do you like him?"

"Uh…" Mia blushed.

"So that's a yes." Melinda, despite herself, felt tears welling in her eyes. One escaped down her cheek, plopping onto her lap.

"Mel, I'm so sorry, you know I would never…"

"I know." Melinda suddenly reached out and grabbed the girl, hugging her tightly.

Mia blinked, but hugged her back.

"I'm sorry, I just…it means so much to me that you would do that for me," Melinda said, finally releasing her captive and wiping her eyes. "Also it pisses me off that the fucker is moving on so fucking quickly. What a dick."

Mia nodded her agreement. "Yeah. What a bastard. Fuck him. We don't need him." She hesitated. "But next Hogsmede visit, I vote we buy out Honeydukes."

Melinda laughed. "Chocolate is so much better than boys. She poured herself some more tea. "To us?"

Mia nodded, and raised her cup. "To us."

The two girls both grinned wickedly and chinked the cups together

* * *

**The Lioness and Her Pride  
****_Part III_**

Zeb Cray yawned, reaching his arms up over his head and stretching. It was getting late, and on hearing the clock strike one he'd retired for bed, leaving the card game taking place in the common room to go one without him. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it drop to the floor, pulling his tie off over his head. He removed his trousers, and flopped into bed in just his boxers, and he'd just closed his eyes and began to get comfy, when something hard, thin and decidedly wooden poked him in a very uncomfortable place.

"_Muffliato_."

Zeb yelped, and his eyes flew open. A shadowy figure was bending over him, and he yelled for help as loudly as he could.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Zeb. No one can hear you," said an all too familiar voice.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, the features of the dark figure sharpened, and he recognised the face of his ex-girlfriend standing over him with her wand pointing back at his groin.

"Melinda, what the _fuck_ are you doing?!"

"Having a little chat." She sat down on the end of his bed, wand still pressed uncomfortably close to his privates for comfort, a wicked gleam in her eyes that used to excite him. Now, it terrified him.

"How did you even get in here?!" he said, panic rising in his chest. He beat it down, struggling remain cool and collected, but that was hard when he was pretty sure she was here to blast off his manhood for some reason. A reason he had a nasty suspicion that he knew.

"Got the password off of your brother. He was _most_ accommodating when he heard what I was here to do."

_Fuck you, Keon._ Zeb thought vehemently, silently swearing vengeance on his sibling.

"Look, Mel. I know that you were pissed when we broke up. But that was a year ago now, and you have Blaze now…I know Mia's your best friend but…shit, have you hurt her?"

Melinda stared at him for a moment, before bursting out laughing. "Me? Hurt Mia? Fuck no." She straightened her face and her eyes narrowed. "Actually, I'm here to make sure that that doesn't happen."

Zeb blinked. "Eh?"

"Put it this way, my dear Zeb." She gave him another jab, and he tried not to squeal. "If you fuck my best friend over, if you treat her badly, or cheat, or leave her in the lurch suddenly because you've decided you like someone else…" Here Zeb had the grace to look slightly guilty, "Then you are not going to like what will happen to you. Not one bit. Do you understand?"

Zeb gave a silent nod, trying not to look scared and failing.

"Good. I'm glad we're clear on that." Melinda rose to her feet. "Goodnight then, Mr Cray." She gave him an angelic smile. "Sweet dreams…"

-x-

Keon looked rather grumpy as Melinda exited the Slytherin common room. "You told me you were going to switch his lube for bubbatubba pus!"

Melinda grinned. "Trust me, Keon. If he hurts my friend, that is the first thing I am going to do." She let out a soft chuckle, before stalking off back up the stairs towards her own corridor.

Keon watched her go, paying particular attention to the sway of her full hips until she was out of sight. He shook his head slowly, making a mental note never to even look at Mia O'Sullivan. One hand strayed protectively to the front of his trousers at the mere thought.

_It's funny,_ he thought to himself as he slunk back into his own common room. _In another life, she would have made one _hell _of a Slytherin._

* * *

**The Lioness and Her Pride****_  
Part IV_**

The streets of London shone gold as the glow of the streetlights reflected off of the rapidly forming puddles. Melinda has often felt claustrophobic in the city growing up, but that was mainly due to the fact she was never allowed out of the house or it's grounds until she reached the stage when her parents couldn't physically stop her. She had never truly experienced the muggle world until becoming friends with Mia, which was when the wonders of London had truly opened up to her. Museums, parks, shopping…Melinda was proud to say that she could now navigate the tube with ease, and it was as good a floo powder or a broom for getting her where she wanted to go. She had never thought that she'd find beauty in the rainbow swirls of a petrol streaked puddle, but the Muggle world definitely had its charms. Those early summers staying at Mia's had been some of the best of her life, until, of course, that no longer became possible. She came to a halt in the middle of a square of tall, Georgian houses which ringed a central garden. She tilted back her head, peering up at the number from under her umbrella, before walking up to the front door. She still had her key, so she just let herself in, shaking the umbrella out outside before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. She wiped her feet, more out of habit than politeness and trod softly down the carpeted hallway, listening closely. She'd be in the lounge, Melinda knew, probably smoking one of those long, thin, awful smelling cigars and sipping a glass of sherry.

She pushed the door open without knocking.

The woman's face was more lined than she remembered, her eyes more sunk in, her lips thin and pursed. Her eyes followed Melinda as she walked across the room, her expression suspicious.

"I take it you heard then," the woman said leaning back in her chair, the dark curls piled on top of her head wobbling slightly as she moved her head to watch Melinda sit on the sofa, making herself at home.

"Of course I did," Melinda said with a beautiful smile. "Really Mother, the news was bound to get back to me somehow."

"It's not too late," the woman said leaning forwards, her cigar trembling between her yellow stained fingers. "We can find you a nice, pureblood boy. We can overlook your unfortunate choice of house and-"

She was cut off by the low chuckle that the girl opposite her let out.

"Really, Mother?" Melinda said, cocking her head to the side. "You think you can sway me like that?" She smirked. "I have an idea. What don't you keep me in the will, and I'll marry whoever I want, and then you can divide everything up equally between me and Phee when you finally go and kick the bucket like Dad?"

The old woman's lips curled. "You think I'd let that filthy blood traitor set foot in _my_ house? The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black? You think I'd allow you to pollute my bloodline with filth and walk away scot free?"

Melinda's smile just widened, although her eyes were glinting rather nastily. "Oh Mummy dearest. Do you want to hear my second idea?"

Before the old woman could react, Melinda had drawn her wand.

"Accio wand," she said in a calm voice, and before she could stop it, Hera Black's wand had sailed across the room into her daughter's hands. "Now Mummy," she continued, pointing both wands at the woman. "Are you listening closely? Good. Now. You are going to keep both Orpheus and myself in that will. You are going to leave us everything, equally divided. And you are going to swear this to me in an unbreakable vow, or tomorrow your body is going to be found hanging from the ceiling of your bedroom. The ministry will declare that you killed yourself because of the grief of recently losing your husband, and Orpheus and I will inherit everything anyway, as I am fully aware of how your will currently stands. Are we clear?"

Hera stared at her for a long moment with wide eyes before nodding. Melinda beamed and moved forwards to take her mother's hand.

-x-

In the growing darkness, a young woman left Number 12 Grimauld Place, putting up an umbrella as she went.

In the dim, unlit sitting room, her mother sat, her hand outstretched and trembling, before pouring herself another sherry and tipping a thin, white powder into it.

It wasn't winning, the old woman thought, but it was as close as she could get when her daughter held all the cards. At least she was choosing her own demise, instead of her daughter staging it; the last bit of control she had.

She downed the sherry and sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. As the world started to grow fuzzy, a small smile flickered across her lips.

_My God,_ she thought with a strange sense of pride as the darkness took hold. _My daughter was a Slytherin all along._

When the house elf found her body in the morning, the smile was still on her lips.


End file.
